Jokers Wild
by Chanandaler Bong
Summary: Ch 73 is finally up! Bruce Wayne has hired Giada DiMarco to be his crime psychoanalyst. But what happens if she falls in love with the man her boss is trying to defeat? Joker/OC PLEASE R&R!
1. Wayne Enterprises

Jokers Wild

Jokers Wild

_Disclaimer: Possible TDK spoilers! I do not own "Batman" or anything that has to do with DC comics. I do own my own characters and storylines. Also, I am well aware of Harley Quinn as the Joker's alleged "girlfriend", but I am changing this for the story. Sorry if this offends you. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Please R&R! _

1. Wayne Enterprises

I, Giada DiMarco, hailing from Boston, had never before been to Gotham City. But I was more than enthused to accept my new job offering at Wayne Enterprises. I had applied to hospitals, small-time offices, and large corporations all throughout New England, but I hadn't heard back from any of them. Being a recent graduate from Northeastern University with a master's degree in Cognitive/Behavioral Neuropsychology, I overtly expected getting a job upon graduating, but I was sorely wrong. Weeks and weeks and week went by, and still nothing. I couldn't understand it. I graduated at the top of my class with a GPA of 3.8. I had internship experience, work experience and the grades all to prove that I was a worthy candidate for any job listing in the psych world.

It wasn't until I got that phone call two weeks ago from Mr. Wayne himself at Wayne Enterprises that I finally had a secure job position, but what I found most interesting, was that I hadn't even applied to Wayne Enterprises. Of course I had heard of the corporation and Mr. Wayne himself, but I was curious how a big time billionaire like him had heard of a small-time, twenty-five year old recent grad from Boston, Massachusetts. I didn't have time to ask questions. I needed a job and I needed one fast. My bills were racking up, my car payment was coming up and the lease on my apartment was coming to an end.

"Well, what do you think, Ms. DiMarco?" Mr. Wayne asked finally. I took a glance around my apartment and at all the bills on the kitchen counter. I took a breath in and spoke.

"I'll take it," I responded as my heart sank into my stomach, which was fluttering with anxious butterflies.

"Wonderful. You start Monday. I'll send a plane to pick you up this Thursday," Mr. Wayne replied.

"This Thursday? But my lease isn't up until the end of the mon—"

"It's already paid for," Mr. Wayne stated.

"But, Mr. Wayne!"

"It's no trouble at all. I'll see you Thursday. It's all taken care of," Mr. Wayne said.

"Well thank you! Thank you very much Mr. Wayne," I retorted, a bit exasperated from this unexpected surprise.

"Oh, and call me Bruce," Mr. Wayne responded.

"Oh, why thank you…uh, Bruce," I replied. There was a click from his end of the phone. I took the receiver from my ear, clicked it off and placed it down on the kitchen counter.

"Well, I better start packing," I said to myself with a sigh. I had never given much thought about living in Gotham. It always seemed to be a bit too far from home for me, but I guess that didn't really matter now that I needed a good paying job and I was done with school. I looked out my bedroom window over the city of Boston.

"I am really going to miss the ocean," I said aloud to myself as I packed.

That night, as I packed up my life, I talked to my mother on the phone. I told her about the weird conversation I had with Mr. Wayne himself and about the job offering. Of course, being from a close Italian family, she was sad to hear of my departure from Boston, but she was also optimistic.

"Giada, I know you're going to love Gotham. I went there once with my friends when I was much younger—there's a large Italian population—you'll feel right at home!" she encouraged me.

"If it's anything like the North End here, I guess I'll be fine," I laughed. It was only Tuesday, but I knew for sure that Thursday would come all too soon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It felt like a whirlwind—meeting up with friends and family to say my good-byes before my big departure to Gotham. I was scared but also excited. I couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse as to how Mr. Wayne had found me, but I was sure as hell excited to find out. What on Earth would have made him hire _me_?

Hopefully he would be using me for what I can do best—analyze people, the brain, behavioral patterns, cognition and therapy. But what on Earth does Mr. Wayne need someone of my educational background at Wayne Enterprises? I just couldn't figure it out.

Mr. Wayne's private jet arrived for me at exactly 8:00 am on Thursday morning. I was informed that another plane would be by to pick up the rest of my things from my apartment—furniture—things of that nature. I was greeted formally by a man called Lucius Fox. I had never been so confused and elated in my entire life.

"Good morning, Miss DiMarco," he smiled as he shook my hand, "I'm Lucius Fox,"

"Good morning, Mr. Fox," I smiled as I shook his hand.

"Please, call me Lucius," he replied as he helped me with my heavily packed bags.

"Yes sir," I responded with a smile.

Before long, we boarded the plane. As the plane took off, I watched as my city grew smaller and smaller below.

"I know you must be sad leaving home," Lucius stated as he observed me intently staring out the window. I merely nodded my head.

"But don't worry—it's only a short plane ride from Boston to Gotham," he continued.

"How long is it?" I asked.

"Just under two hours," he responded.

I nodded my head and glanced back out the window. After a few more moments of silence I spoke.

"Lucius, do you know why Mr. Wayne offered me this job—I don't even know what my job position is," I asked while chuckling. Lucius merely smiled.

"Mr. Wayne will explain everything to you when you meet him today. But I assure you not to worry. Mr. Wayne is, well, I think you'll take to working for Mr. Wayne just fine," Lucius explained.

"Okay," I answered, not really knowing what else to say. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. We would arrive in Gotham in no time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The plane landed with a jolt. I immediately awoke.

"We're here, Miss DiMarco," Lucius stated with a smile.

"I hadn't planned on falling asleep for the whole flight!" I laughed as I stood up from my seat.

"Right this way. Mr. Wayne has requested to meet you as soon as we arrived," Lucius explained.

"What about my bags?" I asked, looking around for my bags.

"They will be unloaded for you," Lucius stated.

"Where am I to live? I haven't found an apartment yet," I responded.

"Leave all of that to Mr. Wayne," Lucius said as he gestured for me to exit the plane, "this way," I exited the plane and followed Lucius to a black limousine. The drive from Mr. Wayne's private airport to Wayne Enterprises was much shorter than I had anticipated. But what I hadn't expected was the newspaper that Lucius handed to me as we drove through Gothma's city streets.

"What's this?" I asked, looking at the Gotham Daily News sitting on my lap.

"Mr. Wayne will explain all to you. I just want you to look at the front page news," he replied. I nodded and looked at the headline: _Gotham Crime Rate Higher than Ever!_

"Well that makes me want to live here!" I laughed as I looked over at Lucius.

"Don't we all, Miss DiMarco!" Lucius retorted with a chuckle. "Well, here we are," The limo stopped outside the tall city building. Lucius opened the door and we both exited the limo and walked up and into Wayne Enterprises. It was on the twenty-second floor that we stopped to meet Mr. Wayne. I could feel my nerves tingling inside as we stepped out of the elevator. I was about to meet one of the richest men in the world—my employer…who had only been a voice on the phone just two days earlier. Mr. Bruce Wayne—a name you only read about in the papers or magazines.

"Miss DiMarco, this is Mr. Bruce Wayne," Lucius introduced me suddenly. I hadn't been paying attention. I had been lost in my mind's eye. I quickly looked up at the handsome man before me. I quickly stuck out my hand.

"A pleasure to meet you finally, Mr. Wayne," I said as professionally as possible.

"The pleasure is all mine," he responded as he shook my hand with his strong hand. I smiled and he smiled back at me. He glanced down and saw the newspaper in my hand.

"I see you've seen the Gotham Daily," he responded.

"Yes. Lucius gave it to me on the way here in the limo," I replied.

"Perfect. Come right this way. Lucius, please join us as well," he said as he motioned for us to go into his office.

"Welcome to Wayne Enterprises. Have a seat," Bruce said as he took a seat across from me. Lucius sat beside Mr. Wayne. I sat down and placed the newspaper on my lap.

"Miss DiMarco, I am well aware of your highly experienced educated background. That was what initially drew me to your resume. It was impressive to see so much internship and research work you've done on human cognition and behavior," Mr. Wayne explained.

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Wayne. I'm very flattered," I responded.

"Bruce. Call me Bruce," he retorted.

"Thank you, Bruce," I said with a deep breath. "You can call me Giada,"

"Giada. That's a nice name, what is it?" Bruce asked.

"Giada is Italian for Jade. My whole family is very Italian," I replied with a smile. "So I guess if you want, you can call me Jade,"

"Well, Giada, I hope you don't mind, but I also took the liberty of reading your thesis and I was also impressed. In fact, it was your thesis work that really made me decide to hire you," Bruce explained.

"Thank you, Bruce. But again, as I was asking Lucius, what is my job position?" I asked. Bruce chuckled and glanced over at Lucius.

"I want you to help me in doing psych analyses—behavioral and cognitive psych analyses for the criminals in this town," Bruce explained.

"Excuse me?" I asked as my jaw dropped.

"Oh Mr. Wayne, there is so much she still doesn't know," Lucius stated. I glanced down at the paper on my lap and saw a headline titled: _The Batman: Outlaw or Hero?_

"About Gotham? Batman? The crime rates?" Bruce asked.

"All of it." Lucius replied. I looked up at the two of them finally.

"What is the Batman?" I asked.


	2. Wendy's Run

2. Wendy's Run

Bruce Wayne cleared his throat and glanced over at Lucius, who glanced back at him. I sat there, watching them look at one another, not knowing what to say.

"Batman fights the criminals in this city," Lucius stated slowly.

"Batman? It's a man who fights…robbers and thieves?" I asked, not entirely sure of what to think of a person called 'Batman'.

"Gotham is filled with scum and Batman works with the GPD—they need all the help they can get," Bruce continued.

"So, what does this Batman look like? Does he have another alias other than Batman? Who is this Batman?" I asked, "What made me want to clean up Gotham? What made him go by the name 'Batman'?"

Lucius and Bruce glanced at one another again. Bruce took in a deep breath and sighed.

"There are only three others who know of Batman's true alias," Bruce began, taking a quick look over at Lucius.

"Who are they? Why do they know who he really is?" I asked eagerly.

"They are Batman's closest companions. He can trust these people," Bruce continued.

"Do you know who they are?" I further inquired, "And what does Batman have to do with my employment here in Gotham at Wayne Enterprises?"

Lucius and Bruce exchanged chuckles and glances yet again.

"Giada, you are going to be a very important asset to Wayne Enterprises. It is imperative that—" Lucius began.

"Giada, your expertise in analyzing human behavior is imperative here at Wayne Enterprises—you will be working very closely with Lucius here. I especially need you to analyze our entire employee staff as well as any other prospective employees. People simply cannot be trusted here in Gotham—and rather than fire everyone employed here at Wayne Enterprises, I would rather hire you to make sure they can all be trusted," Bruce explained calmly.

"So I am not literally looking at criminals in the city, I am just analyzing the people who work for you," I said.

"Simply, yes," Bruce responded. "But I am considering added to Wayne Enterprises another branch of the corporation—perhaps a subdivision of the Medical branch—for psychology, neuropsychology. I am thinking this is something I would like you to be in charge of,"

"Well that is something I can do for you, Bruce," I responded with an enthusiastic smile.

"You will start right away then," Bruce said, returning my smile. He glanced over at Lucius who then glanced over at me. Lucius stood to his feet.

"I'll show you to the office," Lucius said to me. I stood to my feet, still holding onto the newspaper.

"Thank you for your time, Bruce," I said.

"My pleasure. Oh! And one more thing" Bruce said. I turned towards him in response, "Your apartment is located as 409 West 49th street," Bruce said

"My apartment?" I asked incredulously.

"You'll find your things there this evening. I hope you enjoy the location," Bruce stated with a smile.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Wayne!" I exclaimed with excitement.

"My pleasure, Giada," Bruce replied. Lucius and I turned to leave the room. Together we walked to the elevator. The fourteenth floor was our next stop.

My office door already had my name on it: _Giada DiMarco, MS Cognitive/Behavioral Neuropsychologist. _I was elated at the sight of it. The door opened up to an impressive sized office with ceiling to floor windows—a view of Gotham city that took my breath away. On the side wall was a forest green leather couch and on the other side of the room was my desk.

"My office is just across the hall if you need anything. I would imagine Mr. Wayne will be down to give you your first tasks, but until he does, just make yourself at home," Lucius said.

"Thank you very much Lucius," I responded. He left the room and I set my purse and newspaper down on the couch. I walked over to the window and looked out at the city of Gotham. It was beautiful by day—I could only imagine it at night. The buildings were so much taller than the ones in Boston—only the Prudential and John Hancock towers even came close to Wayne Enterprises. Suddenly, I hear sirens and three Gotham City cop cars flying through the city streets below. I sighed and sat down in my desk chair, watching the cars drive around the city block.

"I guess that's what they mean about the crime rate," I said aloud as I spun around in my chair to face my desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the newspaper on the couch. I stood from the desk and walked over to the couch again and grabbed the paper. I flipped through a few pages and read about some of the crimes that have been going on. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary to me. I put the newspaper down again and went to my desk. Suddenly, from down below on the street level, I heard gunshots. Startled, I jumped from my seat and looked out the window.

"Don't be startled by that," I heard a voice behind me. Caught off guard, I jumped around and saw Bruce standing my doorway.

"Sorry—I'm just not so used to hearing gunshots in broad daylight," I responded as I took a seat at my desk again.

"That's what Gotham's turning into. The scum of this city has been turning it into an unsafe place to be," Bruce explained.

"That's why this Batman character is here, then, right?" I asked.

"Well, yes. He tries to inspire good, but I think many are afraid of Batman—they don't understand him," Bruce explained.

"Well, I don't think many people would understand a man who dresses up like a bat and fights criminals at night," I replied with a laugh.

"Do you think Batman is crazy?" Bruce asked as he sat down on the couch.

I laughed, "Well, I don't think it's fair for me to analyze someone I've never met, but speaking from a non-educational background, I would say that if his intentions are for the betterment of the city, then I don't think he's all that crazy," I responded.

Bruce looked at his watch, "Well, I'll agree with you for now, but I must be heading out,"

"What time is it?" I asked him as he stood to his feet.

"Three-thirty," he replied. "You don't have to stay the rest of the day. Feel free to head on to your apartment and get yourself settled. Tomorrow will be a busy day, no doubt," Bruce explained.

"Thank you," I said.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Finding my new apartment wasn't as difficult as I had anticipated it being. I was absolutely elated when I did arrive and found all of my things inside the apartment, along with my keys. I was on the top floor of the building, which made me feel much safer, considering the crime rate in the city. It took me the rest of the day to get things organized and put in place in my apartment. I worked well into the evening, not even stopping for a dinner break. Being in a new city knowing nobody was scary, and I felt like going out grocery shopping would have to wait until tomorrow when it was day and not the dark of night.

After everything was as I wanted it, I decided to climb the fire escape to the roof of my building. The view was absolutely amazing. The entire city was lit up. In the not too far off distance, I could see Wayne Enterprises, shining brightly against the other buildings. Down below, the city traffic was thinning out as the hours grew later. Gazing up at the sky, I noticed something very unfamiliar: an image in the clouds of a bat. A symbol for the Batman, no doubt. I sat there on the roof gazing at it for a while, wondering what the sign in the sky meant. I wondered if it was a calling signal for the Batman—if maybe there was some unsettled crime going on and the GPD needed his help. Suddenly, I heard them: the sirens. Off in the distance, I could faintly see the glow flicker of the blue and red flashing lights of the police cars as they screamed down the city streets. A bit unsettled, I stood to my feet, ready to head back down the fire escape and into my apartment below me. I descended the fire escape quickly and hopped into my apartment and locked the window. My stomach was growling with hunger. I was absolutely starving, but there was no way I wanted to leave my building. The sound of the sirens died down a bit until I could no longer hear them. Maybe there would be a Wendy's open or something down the street. I could just run there and grab a spicy chicken sandwich or hamburger or something. I had to do something—my stomach was going to eat itself if I didn't get something in it fast.

_Okay Giada, just do it. You just need to run down the street to the Wendy's and get something to eat fast_ I thought to myself. I grabbed a few dollars out of my purse and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans, grabbed my keys and locked the door to my apartment behind me. In the elevator, I held my breath as I went past each floor, hoping that no one else would get on the elevator. The last thing I wanted was to be alone in the elevator with an unknown person at 11:30 at night.

One I reach the ground level, I ran from the elevator and out the main door of the apartment building. I could see the Wendy's down the street. I decided that I was going to literally, make a run to Wendy's. The minute I left the building, I ran as fast I could down the street towards the glowing Wendy's sign. Out of breath, I finally reached the restaurant and walked inside. There was only one other person in there, so I bolted to the front and ordered a spicy chicken sandwich to go. As I waited by the counter for my sandwich, I heard a commotion outside. I turned around and outside the windows, I saw a crowd of Italian-looking men. One of the men outside saw me watching them and decided to walk in the restaurant. I held my breath and prayed for my sandwich to be done quickly.

"Buona notte, bella," one of the men said to me.

"Buona notte," I responded, understand exactly what he said to me. I tried to remain calm and nonchalant.

"You from around here? I never seen you around here before," one of the men asked me.

"I'm from Boston," I replied.

"Ah, good ole Boston," the man responded.

"Yup!" I replied with a smile, and glanced back at the counter for my sandwich. At that moment, I realized that none of the workers were behind the counter. I did a double take and realized that they were all hiding behind the counter. I knew I was in deep shit with these guys.

"So, what's your name? Come ti chiami, bella?"

"Giada," I said, and instantly regretted it. _Well, I might as well play along_, "Come ti chiami?" I asked.

"Salvatore. Salvatore Maroni," the man responded.

Fuck. I knew that name. The Maroni crime family. I should have guessed! I really hated myself sometimes. Well, now how was I going to get myself out of this predicament? I tapped my foot slightly and decided that maybe they would just let me go. I began to walk towards the front door—closer to the mob that was congregated in front of me.

"Where are you going? Didn't you order any food?" Salvatore asked.

"Nah—they're out of what I ordered. No big deal. I'll just head over to the Burger King," I laughed nonchalantly.

"Well, that's no good. Pretty dolls like you shouldn't get goin' hungry this late at night," Salvatore stated, then whipped out an 8 mm and walked up to the counter, pointing it at the innocent employees.

"Oh no! It's okay, Salvatore! They didn't do anything wrong!" I exclaimed.

"Now you all listen to me, you're going to get my girl Giada over here what she ordered—"

"Please, it's not a big deal, I'm really not that hungry," I pleaded.

"Shut up!" One of the mob dealers exclaimed as he shot off his gun. I immediately fell to the floor in horror.

"Grab her," Salvatore ordered one of his men. Suddenly, the Chechen grabbed me from behind and held a gun up to my head.

"You goin' to keep quiet now? Hm?" The Chechen asked me in his thick accent. I simply nodded, holding back my tears. I knew that by crying it would only make things worse. Where the fuck was this Batman when you needed him?!

"So this is the best you can do? Hold up a Wendy's on a Thursday night? What…did your balls drop off?" A voice came from behind the Chechen. Still holding the gun to my head, he spun around to face a man wearing some kind of clown mask, a pin striped shirt, a blue jacket and pants. In his hand was another gun. He pointed it at the Chechen and tilted his head to the side. "I'd let go of the girl,"

"What you goin' to do? Shoot me?" the Chechen asked angrily.

"Ima have my boy pull ya head off if ya don't put down ya gun!" Gambol exclaimed as he took out his gun and pointed it at the man in the mask.

"How about I pull off yours instead?" Another voice growled from behind the counter. At the sound of the growling voice, the man in the mask fled from the Wendy's. At that, I turned and kicked the Chechen in the groin. In pain, he doubled over and dropped the gun. I then picked up the gun and pointed it at him and everyone else.

"Who wants to fuck with me now?!" I exclaimed, enraged—my Sicilian blood boiling. All I wanted was my fucking chicken sandwich! Suddenly, the voice from the counter that had growled pounced from behind the counter to reveal a man dressed all in black and with a bat-like cape. The Batman. Salvatore dropped his gun, as did Gambol. I kept pointing mine. The Batman grabbed the men and kicked them out of the restaurant.

"You can put that gun down," the Batman growled at me. I slowly lowered it, my arms and hands shaking madly. Once everyone was gone and out of the Wendy's, I collapsed to the floor in shock. I had never held a gun in my life, and there I was, pointing it at somebody else!

"All I wanted was my spicy chicken sandwich!" I sobbed finally. The Batman hopped behind the counter and tossed me a wrapped sandwich. I caught it and couldn't help but laugh slightly between my sobs.

"I'll take you home," he grumbled in his low voice. I nodded and stood to my feet. "This way," he said as he led me out the back way he came in. Behind the Wendy's, he shot a rope up high into what appeared to me as buildings, but I didn't question anything. I just held on to my sandwich as the Batman held me tightly around my waist. As we hoisted up into the air, I looked down for a moment and saw the man in the mask glance back up at me—except the mask was no longer on his face.


	3. Mr J

3. Mr. J

_Disclaimer: This chapter is a bit sadistic. I'm sorry if it's too sadistic and I'm sorry if it's not sadistic enough!_

The Batman brought me back to my apartment building—we landed on the roof somehow. I was so confused that it didn't even matter. All that mattered was that I had been hungry, went to get food, got held up at the place of food, and Batman saved me. Oh, that I pointed a gun at someone. Never thought I'd do that in my life.

"Next time, try to get food for yourself earlier than 11:30. The city is not safe for women like you to be wandering around late at night," the Batman said.

"Thanks dad," I responded with a slight smile. To this day, I don't know why I said that to him. "But really, thank you for saving me. I don't know what I would have done otherwise,"

"Batman needs no thanks," he responded and then jumped off the building, gliding down to the ground with his enormous cape. Quickly, I ran down the fire escape and into my apartment for the last time that night. I locked every window and door, ate my sandwich and went to bed. No doubt, Bruce would be upset if I showed up late to work on my first real day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I woke up the following morning and got ready for work. I headed out of my building. It was about a 20 minute walk to Wayne Enterprises—not a bad walk at all. When I arrived, I took the elevator up to my office and noticed the door to my office was already open. Bruce and Lucius were both in my office looking at the day's newspaper.

"Good morning, Giada," Lucius greeted me.

"Good morning Lucius, Bruce," I smiled as I set my things down on my desk. "What are you looking at in the paper?"

Bruce glanced up at me and handed me the paper. I glanced at the front page articles: _Yesterday's Banker Robbery Linked to the Joker_ and _Maroni Crime Family Holds up Wendy's_.

"Yeah, I was at Wendy's last night when that happened!" I said as I pointed to the article and handed it back to Bruce, "Batman saved me,"

"Oh he did, did he?" Lucius asked with a grin.

"What do you think of the bank robbery?" Bruce asked me.

"I didn't get to read the article. Who is the Joker?" I asked as I sat down at my desk.

"The Joker is notorious for committing crimes here in Gotham," Bruce explained.

"Ah, I see. Want me to do an analysis on him?" I asked with a grin.

"Well, if you'd like—" Bruce began.

"It might be a waste of your time right now, Giada. I'd stick to the company for now on your analyses," Lucius chimed in. I nodded and laughed. I wasn't serious on analyzing the Joker. I didn't even know who he was.

"Well, Bruce, do you have a list of who I need to meet with today?" I asked.

"Yes, I do," he handed me the list of employees I would be interviewing and then analyzing. I glanced it over, nodded and placed it down on my desk.

"I guess I'll get to work then," I said.

"We'll get out of your way. If you need anything, we'll be in my office," Lucius said as they both left my office.

That started my day. I began calling in employees one by one, asking them questions, taking notes and recording all of my sessions for my analyses later on that evening. Most of the employees I met with that first day were so very sane and normal it was sick. I felt like I was wasting my time evaluating their behavioral models through questioning and testing. I had never been so relieved in my life than when 5:00 came and I could leave.

On my way out, I grabbed the newspaper from my couch and shoved it into my purse. I scurried to the nearest grocery store and bought a few things for my apartment and ran home as quickly as I could. The elevator let me off on my floor and I shuffled down the hall to my door. Fumbling with all my grocery bags, purse and office things, I finally got the key in the door and opened it. I switched on the light and let the bags fall down right in the kitchen. I shuffled the rest of my things into my bedroom and in the growing darkness, I noticed an outline of something strange on the nightstand beside my bed. I flicked on the light on my dresser and saw it was a vase with a single red rose in it. Attached to the rose was a card. My heart jumped at the thought of someone breaking into my apartment to leave me a rose. I couldn't decide if I was flattered or horrified. I inched over cautiously to the rose and red the card: _Hello beautiful – J_

Not hand written—but typed. "Hello Beautiful – J". Did I know a "J"? Not here in Gotham. I didn't know anyone except Bruce and Lucius. Neither of their names began with a J. My heart was beating so quickly I thought it might jump right out of my chest. Someone named J broke into my apartment to give me a rose with a note saying "hi". This was unbelievable. What the hell kind of city was this?! I decided to run into the kitchen and grab a knife. The intruder could still be in my apartment and just hiding. I slowly scanned every corner, closest, behind every door and inside every cabinet that may be able to fit a human being. Finally, I ended in my room and noticed the Gotham Daily, lying on my bed. I grabbed the paper and onto my bed fell a Joker card. Still holding the knife, I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Joker! Where are you?! You sent me this rose! Show yourself, intruder!" I screamed as loudly as I could. No one emerged. My heart was racing faster than it has ever beaten in my life. Not knowing what to do or say, I lowered the knife to my side. "FINE! Don't show yourself! I'm going to make dinner!" I screamed, still holding the knife and backing out of my bed room. Taking some deep breaths, I decided to make a quick dinner of breakfast. I cracked a few eggs and scrambled them in the pan, all while still clutching the knife. I then sat down at my table, eating my eggs with one hand while my other hand still held tightly onto the knife.

"And a standing ovation for that show!" a voice exclaimed as a man emerged from my bedroom slowly clapping his hands. I stood to my feet as he appeared before me.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment….uninvited, no less!" I exclaimed as he emerged. I could feel my olive skin turning red at my cheeks from my nerves as my heart continued pounding inside my chest.

"I was hoping you'd let me stay for dinner," he responded as he sat down across from me at the table.

"You're the man from last night at Wendy's," I responded as I sat back down, staring hard at the mask.

"Indeed. Did you ever get that sandwich?" he asked as he helped himself to my eggs.

"Yes, I did. Why do you wear that mask? And do you know who gave me the flower?" I asked, not taking my eyes from him for one second.

"Augh, I gave you that flower," he responded, frowning underneath the mask.

"So you're J?" I asked.

"I'm whoever you want me to be," he replied.

"I want you to take off that mask," I said, trying to catch his eyes behind the mask. "I mean, I can't accept a flower from someone I don't know and who hides behind a mask,"

"If it's not one mask, it's another," he said as he took off the mask to reveal his haphazardly white painted face. All around his eyes were painted black and his lips were painted red and up into a large grin, covering what appeared to be scars going up his cheeks. He licked his lips.

"J. Joker," I said finally, my voice low soft.

"I see you got my card," he replied as he finally took a bite of my eggs.

"The Joker card, I assume," I retorted.

"That's the one! So glad you finally came back and got it. I'd been waiting all afternoon for you to come back," he said.

"How did you know where I lived?" I asked, still not entirely terrified of the man seated across from me eating my eggs. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.

"Well, let's just say that the Batman's changed things. Forever. You can thank him," the Joker replied. I just kept staring at him, not knowing what to say. I couldn't even ask him how he got into my apartment in the first place. He's a criminal. He'd never tell me anything.

"You look concerned. Is it the scars?" the Joker asked as he put down my fork and gestured to his face. I shook my head.

"No. I'm just confused," I said, tilting my head to the side as he kept staring at me.

"Would you like to know how I got them?" he asked as he stood from the chair. At this, my heart was beating rapidly. The Joker—in my place of residence. The Joker—the man in today's newspaper for the bank robbery. He's undoubtedly a lethal man. I was almost certain that being in the presence of such a criminal alone would not end well for me, but I couldn't let him get to me. Criminals get elate in getting their victims all worked up. I figured that maybe I should just let him do whatever to me—even if it means letting him kill me. I just continued to breath in and out steadily as he he knelt down in front of me and took a glance at the knife in my hand.

"Nice knife," he said as he took out his own knife/peeler and held it up to my face.

"Thank you," I said quickly as he placed the blade into my mouth and put his other hand on my face to make sure I would hold still.

"Well, I had a brother who never seemed to agree with anything I had to say. He was always telling me that I was stupid—a freak who didn't know anything. Of course being a kid, this made me sad and well, being the younger brother and not having an older brother to look up to, I really took it hard. So this one day, I get home from school and he's going off on me about something I've said that was ignorant to him. He told me to just staple my mouth shut so I could never talk ever again—and me wanting to please my older brother, I took the stapler from my father's tool shed and started to staple…one…by…one,"

I did not move an inch. I just kept my eye contact with him as he gave his story. I knew it was bullshit. I figured that by the end of the story if he hadn't tried to kill me, he probably wasn't planning on doing it at all. I think he was slightly surprised I hadn't moved one bit. He finally removed the knife from my mouth. I looked down for a moment at the knife in his hand and then I licked my lips and returned my gaze to his eyes again.

"You're lying. But now it's my turn," I replied. I think this also took him by surprise. I then placed my knife into his mouth. "Do you mind?"

"Go right ahead," he said, almost grinning.

"Very well then," I placed my hand on the side of his face and continued with my story. "I knew a kid who had scars like these back in high school. The kid was really into being popular. He and his friends would play these games, 'would you rather'—fuckin' sadistic game. Well, this one day, he and his friends are playing the game 'would you rather' and they decide to make it a real game of 'would you rather' and this other kid says, to him, 'would you rather have someone hold you down and paper cut your eyeballs, or have your face cut open with a kitchen knife and have salt thrown into the wounds?' Well this kid said that having his eyes paper cut would be much worse, so the others held him down, took the kitchen knife and cut his face…like this," I motioned on myself with the knife. The Joker broke into elated laughter.

"Oh you're just too much fun!" the Joker exclaimed through laughter.

"I'm glad you think so," I responded, picking up my fork with my other hand and placing on my plate. He finally put his knife away and stopped laughing. He noticed I was still holding on to my knife.

"You can put that away. I'm not going to kill you. You're just too much fun!"

"How can I believe you?" I asked, widening my eyes.

"Because I can't very well kill someone as beautiful as you who thinks like I do. This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets his match—because let's face it…Giada is it? You're just a freak, like me,"

"You think so?" I asked, licking my lips again, feverishly trying to get into his mindset for my own safety.

"Absolutely," he responded, sitting back into the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

"So you think I'm a freak, huh? I've never killed anybody—never robbed a bank—never done anything of the sort," I responded, mimicking his seated position as I folded my arms over my chest.

"No, but last night, I saw the way you pointed that gun at the Chechen. It came so naturally to you. Just you wait, you'll see," he replied with a sadistic grin.

"We'll see, won't we?" I asked, mimicking his grin.

"You see, we think alike, you and me. You don't think the way they do—you—you're above all of that. But they're going to use you for the way you think and when they do, you'll have nowhere else to go—no one else to turn to, except me. I'll be here. Because in the end, it's you and I who think alike that will overcome the system," The Joker explained. Finally, he stood from his seat and held out his hand for me to take. I sat there just staring at him, incredulous. Not taking his hand, I stood up. He was taller than me by probably six or seven inches, but I was by no means intimidated by him.

"I'll leave you my card, and when you're ready, I'll be here," he said as he took another card from his jacket pocket, held it up for me to see, and then placed it down on the table.

"Thank you, uh…Mr. J," I responded as I glanced down at the card and then back up at him. He grabbed his mask, backed up to the door and bowed to me as he left my apartment.


	4. Dinner Psychology

4. Dinner Psychology

That weekend, I heard nothing from the Joker. I went to work that Friday, did my job, went grocery shopping again and went home to work on my evaluations. That Saturday, I worked on evaluations and that Sunday, I worked on evaluations. However, on Sunday night, I got a phone call from someone unexpected. I was sitting on the couch in my living room working on the evaluations and the phone rang. Startled by the unexpected ringing, I jumped up and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Giada, it's Bruce,"

"Oh hi Bruce! How are you?" I asked

"I'm just fine, thank you. I was calling to invite you over to a small dinner gathering I'm having with a couple friends of mine," Bruce explained.

"Oh…I'd love to—what time?" I asked.

"Be here around 7," he responded.

"Will do,"

"See you then,"

"Alright. Bye now,"

"Good bye,"

I hung up the phone and looked at the clock on under my TV on the cable box. 6:04. Great. I jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I then dried my dark curly hair, applied some make-up and threw on a nice casual dress. Quickly, I shuffled into my kitchen and searched the cabinets for an unopened bottle of wine. I could not go to someone's home for a dinner party empty handed. It is not the Italian way I was taught. Luckily, I found a bottle of unopened chianti. I grabbed my purse, turned off the lights, left the my apartment and locked the door behind me.

I arrived at Bruce Wayne's humble abode at exactly 7:00. I was greeted by Alfred, a very kind British man.

"Good evening, Miss Giada," he greeted me with a smile.

"Good evening," I responded with a smile in return.

"Mr. Wayne is right this way," he led me down the hall and into a magnificent dining hall.

"Ah, Giada, you made it!" Bruce said the moment he saw me. He immediately placed his glass of champagne down on the table and took my hand in his.

"Thank you for inviting me. I brought you some wine," I responded, handing him the bottle of chianti.

"Oh you didn't have to," he replied with a smile.

"Well, I did," I smiled back at him.

"Come, I'd like you to meet a few people," he led me over to a handsome couple.

"Giada, this is Rachel Dawes, my oldest and dearest friend, and this is Harvey Dent, her boyfriend," Bruce introduced me.

"A pleasure to meet you both," I replied as I shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you," Rachel said.

"Oh Bruce, a Bostonian," Harvey said with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm from Boston," I laughed, "How can you ever tell?"

"I wasn't going to say anything—I wanted to see if you noticed!" Bruce laughed.

"Go on, say it! Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd," Harvey joked.

"Give me a little more wine and I'll say it later," I laughed back at him.

We all took our seats at the table and commenced to talking about various things. Bruce mentioned that I worked for him do cognitive and behavioral analyses on his employees and he talked about how Harvey is the District Attorney. The conversation soon escalated into a conversation about Gotham's crime rate and what the GPD needs to do in order to keep the peace.

"Well, the GPD can only do so much, next to Batman," I said finally, not really knowing if it was the decent thing to bring up. Rachel and Bruce exchanged a glance.

"Batman is what Gotham needs. Batman is Gotham's hero," Harvey explained to me.

"No, Harvey. You're what Gotham needs," Bruce responded.

"I understand that, and someday when Batman feels like he can do this no longer, I'll still be here. But for now, Batman is what Gotham needs for the behind the scenes action we're all missing right now," Harvey explained.

"Batman saved me at Wendy's a few nights ago," I said with a slight laugh.

"Oh, he did?" Rachel asked with a small grin.

"Yes, he did. I was glad he did, because I don't think the cops ever came to the sight," I responded.

"The GPD can only do so much, and with the Joker back in action lately, they've got their hands full," Harvey said.

"The Joker, huh," I said, taking another sip of wine.

"I think Batman will get the Joker," Harvey stated.

"The Joker's a mad dog," Bruce said flatly as he finished his glass of wine.

"A mad dog or not—the man's clever and has sufficed not getting caught by the GPD for years," Harvey explained.

"I think this conversation is boring Giada," Rachel chimed in finally, glancing over at me.

"Oh, no, I'm fine! I think this is all quite fascinating. The crime out East quite like this," I replied with a smile.

"Well, you're a behavioral analyst. What do you think of the Joker?" Harvey asked me finally.

"Well, I'd have to meet him to decipher that," I lied. I don't know why I lied. I should have told them he broke into my apartment, but I didn't.

"The Joker's a raging psychopath. It doesn't take an expert to figure that one out, Harvey," Bruce responded coldly.

"Actually, Bruce, Gotham City might be quick to categorize the Joker as a serial killing sociopath, but if you look at his crime habits, he's anything but a serial killing sociopath. Serial killers don't kill mass amounts of people—they tend to target types, for instance, you may have a serial killer who only kills blonde prostitutes. Along with that, the killings are always in the same exact manner, like the Boston Strangler—it's a ritual. The Strangler only killed certain women and in the exact same way every time. The Joker has no ritual. He has no plans. He's far from a serial killer," I responded.

"Well, he's still a mass murdering psychopath who needs to be caught and sent to County," Bruce explained.

"The Joker is neither a sociopath nor a psychopath. A sociopath is a person who gets gratification from hurting others for no apparent reason. I don't see the Joker getting any gratification from hurting others. He just simply kills for no reason. This doesn't give him any kind of joy. He just does it. A psychopath is someone with a severe mental disorder. They tend to be aggressive and yes the Joker is aggressive, but not in the sense that he doesn't know what he is doing. I am not saying the Joker doesn't exhibit any sociopathic behaviors, because he certainly does—but I would not diagnose him as a sociopath," I stated.

"Fair enough. Maybe once we catch him, we'll bring you over to County and you can interview him for one of your analyses," Harvey replied with an eager smile, "I'd love to see what you had to say about him after meeting him,"

"Yeah, I bet he'd change your mind," Bruce stated.

"Well—maybe. I'll never know until I can meet him and have a conversation with him," I replied with a grin.


	5. One Shot

5. One Shot

After dinner, dessert and a few more drinks, I finally decided it was time to go home. Harvey and Rachel offered to walk me home. I obliged, simply because it was late and not safe for me to walk the streets alone at night. Once I reached my apartment building, I thanked Harvey and Rachel and ran to the elevator as quickly as possible. On the top floor, I hesitantly opened the door and immediately flicked on the lights and slammed the door behind me.

"Hello?! Joker?! Are you in here?" I called out, grabbing the knife from the counter and walking through the apartment. My heart stopped when I went into my room. On the nightstand beside my bed was another single rose with another card attached. This time, typed on it: _Next time, try purple and green – J_. I let out a small chuckle, then my hands went numb. The Joker must have seen me leave or come back this evening. How else would he have known my dress was neither green nor purple?

"Joker! If you're here, I insist you show yourself!" I instructed firmly. Taking the knife, I looked under my bed, behind the door and then ran into the bathroom. I searched behind the door, the shower and then into the small hallway. No one. There was not a single person to be found in my apartment. Maybe he left another note somewhere else in the apartment. Or maybe he left something else. Suddenly, there was a knock from the window by the fire escape. My heart jumped as I turned to face the window, half expecting it to be the Joker. To my likeness, it was Batman. I opened the window quickly for him, and he motioned for me to join him on the fire escape. I crawled out the window and stood beside him.

"Batman, fancy seeing you here!" I greeted him.

"I've heard through the grapevine that you're a behavioral analyst of the sorts," Batman said in his low grumbling voice. I nodded.

"Yes, yes I am. I have a master's degree in Cognitive/Behavioral Neuropsychology," I responded, "Why do you ask?"

"Would you be willing to help me?" he asked.

"In what way? How can _I_ possibly help _you_?" I asked, incredulous.

"Have you ever heard of the Joker?" he asked, his voice still low.

"Yes, I have. Let me guess; you want me to perform an analysis on the Joker so you and the GPD can further understand his antics?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"The Joker's one of Gotham's highest rate criminals. We'd do anything we can to ensure his arrest," Batman stated.

"And how would you like me to go about this? I've never met the Joker before in my life. And if I did meet him, who's to guarantee he wouldn't kill me? Or even talk to me truthfully?" I asked.

"When we catch him, it is imperative for you to come to County and speak with him. The Joker will be caught and when he is, you will know," Batman further explained.

"Well, when you catch him, I'll be there," I said, glancing briefly into my apartment, then back to Batman, who was no longer there. He disappeared. I looked down the fire escape and all around, but he was no where to be found. Assuming that is what he just does, I crawled back into my apartment and locked the window behind me. The front door of my apartment was wide open.

"Black isn't your color, Giada; really, I'm telling you—green and purple would be much more flattering on a woman of your stature and coloring," the Joker said as he emerged from the hallway to my bedroom.

"I got your card with that message. I'm flattered you care so much about what I wear, Joker," I responded.

"Just doing my part to help, as always," he replied as he sat down on my couch and put his feet up on the table, on top of all my psych evaluations.

"Hey, hey! That's my work you've got your feet all over!" I exclaimed as I ran over and threw his feet off of my paperwork. I couldn't believe I had just thrown a mass murdering clown's feet off of my work. He should have killed me. I would have. He simply laughed.

"Your work—evaluations for Wayne Enterprises, no doubt," he responded.

"Yes. Psych evaluations, actually," I replied with a grin.

"You know, people think I'm crazy," he said, as he patted the spot next to him on the couch for me to sit down. I felt a small flutter in my stomach at his gesture, almost as though I were excited to get close to him. I then mentally slapped myself. He's a criminal. A wanted, mass murdering, criminal; I should not want to sit next to him. I sat next to him anyway.

"That's my girl. Now let's take a looksie at these, uh, evaluations," the Joker said as he took his feet from the table and took the papers from my hands. He rustled through the papers and then glanced over at me.

"Is there a problem, Joker?" I asked, snatching the papers back from him.

"Mr. Wayne's employees are a bunch of compulsive, planning, type A's, aren't they?" the Joker asked.

"Yes, actually. A lot of them are a bit compulsive—but that's besides—"

"You know who's compulsive—it's the Batman," the Joker interrupted me. A grin crossed my face.

"You know, you just missed the Batman," I said, putting the papers down in my lap, "he was just here—out there on my fire escape," I pointed to the window I crawled in from.

"Well it's a good thing he's left then, because I'm sure Maroni's up to no good tonight," the Joker responded with a slight pout of his lips. My heart skipped at a beat.

"Aren't you and the mob working together?" I asked, a bit unsure of my increasing heart rate, now that I was certain the Joker wasn't out to kill me.

"Me? Working with the mob?" The Joker burst into a flurry of laughter, "Not a chance! I work with no one—except maybe one other person,"

"Oh, is that so?" I asked, curious as to who his accomplice is.

"Well that's for you to decide," he responded, licking his lips. I paused, not knowing what to say.

"What am I to decide?" I asked finally, the butterflies whirling around in my stomach.

"Well, as long as you're working at Wayne Enterprises, I can't say you're working with me," he replied.

"Me? Working with you? Not too likely," I said finally, trying to avert my eyes away from his. He knew he was getting to me. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards him and searched for my eyes with his as he held onto me.

"I told you my little, uh, proposition and I understand that you'll take it when you're ready. I just thought I'd drop by, uh, this evening to give you a little reminder. There's never anything wrong with a little reminder. What's the matter? Why won't you look at me? Now, I know it isn't the scars…or is it?" he asked. Finally, I let my eyes meet his. For some reason, I was losing my 'act like the Joker' touch. He was getting to me for some reason, and he knew it. It was showing and he could tell.

"Are you going to stay a while?" I asked finally, calming myself down. He let go of my shoulders.

"Why do you ask?" he asked, sweeping his hair back from his face.

"Well, I was going to say that if you were planning on staying a while, make yourself comfortable and I'll put on a pot of coffee or something," I responded. If anyone had seen this, they would have thought I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy and the Joker was sane. Maybe we were both crazy but we felt sane together. He didn't scare me and now that I wasn't letting him get to me, the grin reappeared on his face.

"Well, if you're inviting me to stay, I might as well! There's so much we can learn from each other in one little over-night," the Joker responded with a seductive grin.

"Over-night? I didn't ask you to have a sleepover with me—I simply asked if you were staying longer and if you maybe wanted a cup of coffee," I replied with a small chuckle as I stood to my feet.

"Oh, but a sleepover would be so much fun, Giada! Wouldn't you agree?" he asked, jumping up to his feet.

"Maybe you had better go then," I responded, crossing my arms.

"Oh you're no fun," he said as he plopped back down on the couch.

"Coffee?" I asked again.

"Got anything stronger?" he asked as he kicked off his shoes. I walked into the kitchen and searched through my alcohol bottles.

"Scotch, vodka, rum, wine, frangelico and chambord," I listed to him.

"That's it?" he asked as he took off his jacket.

"Well, I make a pretty fucking awesome drink with the chambord and frangelico," I called over to him.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"Those two and milk," I responded.

"A shot of punch please," he said finally.

"What the hell is punch?" I asked, as I mixed my drink.

"All of those combined into one shot," he responded. I paused, shook my head and then poured him a small glass of each liquor I had listed in my cabinet. I then walked back out into the living room to see that he had taken off his jacket. I guess my jaw must have dropped slightly at the sight of him, because I stopped right in front of him, holding the two drinks and froze there just looking at him. His green vest which snuggly tucked his tie behind it, hugged his torso closely. That stupid purple jacket was much too big for him—it hid the best of him.

"Giiiiiiiiiiada!" his voice rang suddenly. I blinked my eyes several times and then set his drink down on the table. I then just kept standing and took a sip of my drink.

"Now, I don't want to sound rude or anything, but why invite me to stay if you won't even join me on the couch here? Not to say this is a nice view for me, but I think after this shot, I'd enjoy you more next to me," the Joker stated. I was still so entranced by his new physique I hardly heard a thing he said. I just shuffled over to the couch and took a seat next to him.

"What's the matter, Giada? Cat got your tongue?" the Joker asked, laughing as he eyed me just sitting there not looking at him. I blinked and decided I should probably compose myself. There was no way I was going to let him get to me like that. It was too obvious to myself that I was developing a serious crush on a mass murdering criminal. That is not something that I wanted to happen but from the looks of it, there was not much I could do at this point. I decided to play it off. I turned my head slowly towards him and smirked.

"Cat's got nothing," I said as I drank my drink.

"What's in that?" he asked me finally, taking it from my hands and taking a sip of it.

"Frangelico, chambord and milk. It's called a 'nuts and berries'," I replied as I snatched it back from him.

"Now that's a delicious beverage!" he exclaimed.

"What, you want to trade or something?" I asked, glancing down at his untouched shot of every kind of liquor I had.

"You wouldn't trade with me even if I asked you to," he said, taking the shot in his ungloved hand.

"You're absolutely right!" I exclaimed with a laugh.

"And why is that?" he asked, grinning and quirking an eyebrow.

"Because it's what you would want me to do. You would ask me for a shot of every liquor I had and then tell me you liked my drink better and if I would trade. Now it would be no secret that if I were to trade with you, I would get overly intoxicated from your shot and you would be relatively sober from drinking my drink. At this, you would then be able to have your way with me, which may or may not be something you desire," I explained.

"Oh we do think so very alike, Giada!" he exploded into laughter, "you know exactly what I am thinking and why!"

"I didn't spend six years of my life in college learning about psychology and behavior and cognition for nothing, you know," I responded.

"And what's even better is that I know that you really would like to switch drinks with me to see if what you predicted would actually happen or not," the Joker continued.

"Now that would be a little too fun, Joker," I replied, drinking more of my nuts and berries.

"What's a couple drinks without any fun?" the Joker asked, leaning over the taking his shot from the table. He turned to me and held it in his hand and raised an eyebrow. He was right. In that moment, in that one suggestive look he gave me, I wanted the shot. I wanted to take the shot and see what he would do with me. I wanted him and I wanted him badly.

"Well who's to say that if I take that shot you won't kill me when I'm too drunk to understand anything?" I asked finally.

"And who's the say that if you take that shot and you get drunk I won't just leave you be?" he asked.

"But I don't want to die," I said finally, feeling a little buzz from my drink.

"Giada, I don't want to kill you," the Joker stated as he licked his lips, his eyes locked in a gaze with mine.

"But I can't tell if you're lying or not," I stated finally, my mind in a frenzy trying to figure out this criminal mastermind.

"Well, judging from your textbook definitions on criminal minds, wouldn't I have killed you already if I was going to kill you at all?" he asked, playing Devil's Advocate. I paused for a moment and really thought through the situation. The odds were in my favor. If he was going to kill me or wanted to kill me, he really would have done it by now.

"I know that my word isn't worth much in this town, but for you, Giada, darling, you have my word—I do not want to kill you," the Joker continued. He was smooth talking me and I was beginning to feel buzzed from my drink. This was no good at all. He was smooth talking me and I was falling for it. Could he be trusted? Could I trust the Joker? I hesitated another moment. Fuck it. If he was going to kill me, then he was going to kill me. There would be nothing I could do to stop it anyway. I am not the killing type. I took the shot from his hand and gave him my drink. I was about to down his shot when he stopped my hand from reaching my mouth.

"What? What now?" I asked. Saying nothing, he merely clanked glasses with me. I chuckled and then downed the shot. He too, finished my drink in one gulp. All it took was that one shot. I was wasted. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Joker! Quick!" I drunkenly stood to my feet. He jumped to his feet, ready to catch me if I fell. "Joker! We're drunk!" I exclaimed. He exploded into laughter at my behavior.

"Joker! Now's the time for you to have your way with me! If you want to kill me, now's your chance!" I exclaimed. He simply kept laughing at me. He laughed so hard at me that he doubled over and fell back onto the couch.

"Joker! Why are you laughing at me!? Whoa!" I spun around and fell onto him on the couch. I tried to sit up but he pulled me onto him so that I was straddling him. With both of his hands, he held me steady by my shoulders.

"Joker! Why are you holding me like this!" I started laughing.

"Sh sh sh sh sh," he said finally, holding a solitary finger up to my mouth as he shook his head. As he went to take his finger from my mouth once I was quiet, I tried to bite his finger; but he was too quick to hold onto my arms.

"Please let me go, Joker," I said finally.

"I'm not holding your hands—just your arms," he responded with a simple nod of his head, gesturing to where he was holding me.

"Oh," I let out a small laugh and then lifted my hands to his face. "Do you mind?" I asked, meeting my eyes with his and then lowering my eyes to his scars and finally meeting his eyes again.

"No. Go on. Touch them," he said, at last, a grin forming on his lips. I let my fingers run softly over the bumps and grooves of the scars. I saw him close his eyes as I felt them. He breathed in and out a few times, then, suddenly, he flipped me onto my back and pinned my hands down at my sides.

"I'm sorry! Don't kill me please!" I exclaimed as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Open your eyes—look at me," he said in a soft voice.

"No you're going to kill me!" I exclaimed again.

"Look at me!" he growled. Out of fear, I opened my eyes, "I'm not going to kill you,"

"You're not?" I asked finally.

"Does it look like I'm going to kill you? If anything, I'd fuck the shit out of you—not kill you,"

"Then you'll fuck me first then kill me!"

"You'll see, Giada. You'll see one of these days that I'm not going to kill you," he said finally, sitting up, now straddling me on the couch.

"Well then what are you waiting for?" I asked, "are you going to have your way with me like I hypothesized earlier? I took the shot. The ball is in your court, Joker," I laughed finally. He just stared down at me laughing and a grin slid across his full lips.

"Who's to say what you predicted would actually happen? Where's the fun in that? Where's the fun in being able to predict something? I'm not a man of plans, Giada—you know what by now. Let's be honest, you didn't plan for your night to end like this, did you? But how glad are you now that it did?"

"But my night's not over yet! It's not over until you have your way with me—do me. I know you want to," I coaxed him.

"You know me better than you think you do—but I also know you better than you know yourself, Giada. I know you like I know myself and right now," he said as he hoisted me up to a sitting position, "you're right—I'd like to fuck you like a rabbit, but let's be honest—now isn't the time for such actions,"

"I'm speechless! I never thought a man would turn down a drunken woman ready to give herself away," I chuckled. He backed off of me and I sat up on the couch on my knees, still facing him.

"Gotham's waiting for me and I won't disappoint," the Joker continued.

"Well you're disappointing me! I've got condoms in the top drawer of that nightstand you always leave me flowers on," I stated as I started to get up from the couch. The Joker simply pulled me back down.

"Just like you said you can't trust me—I can't trust you yet either, my dear. In time, in time. When you find that you want to join with me, that you can trust me, I can trust you, because let's be honest here—for as long as you're at Wayne Enterprises and the Batman is dropping in on, uh, unexpected visits, this little you/me think is going to be quite more difficult than it need be. I want you, Giada. I want you to join me because I know we share the same mind. You're too good for these other people. I have what you want and I have what you need. But until you make that decision for yourself, I can't do a damn thing," he finished.

"Oh I hate it when you talk like that! It's like when I talk to myself in my head! How are you in my head?"

"It was that one shot," the Joker laughed as he stood to his feet and slipped on his shoes. "This won't be the last you see of me, sweetheart," he said as he put on his jacket and gloves. "Thanks for the drink," and with that, he was out the door. I fell back on the couch and closed my eyes. I was in deep shit. I was falling for a criminal. But not just any criminal—I was falling for the Joker.


	6. Analyses

6. Analyses

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything related to it. I do use some direct movie quotes from Dark Knight in this. I obviously do not own them. I do own my storyline however. Enjoy!_

I went to work that Monday with a super hang over. Did I try to seduce the Joker? It seems that whenever the Joker comes to visit me, I feel strange the next day. Now, I know I felt strange the next day because of my hangover, but I still felt that strange feeling in my stomach—like I knew deep down inside the Joker was right about me. Were we more like than I thought? I remembered wanting him to have sex with me, but I also remembered that not happening. I remembered him telling me that he did not want to kill me, but what I wanted to know was why he didn't want to kill me. That Monday was tough for me because I also had the pleasure of interviewing more employees.

The entire week, I heard nothing from the Joker. I assumed he was committing more crimes. I didn't let myself be sad about it. He's a criminal—a mass murdering criminal. I didn't get it get to me because by the end of the week, Bruce showed me Friday's daily news and I was right. The Joker was blatantly searching for Batman and had put out a hit for the commissioner, Harvey Dent and the judge. I wondered if Batman would stop it from happening. Bruce hadn't been in the office all week, but was having an enormous party that evening in which I felt like the entire city was invited to. I was planning on going, but that weekend I was flying back to Boston for my cousin's wedding.

When I arrived back to Gotham from Boston on Sunday evening, the commissioner and judge had both been killed by the Joker, as well as Lieutenant Gordon, who had been shot during the funeral assembly for the late commissioner. I was in the middle of reading the paper as I lugged my suitcase into my apartment from the hallway.

"Giada, we're close to getting the Joker," the voice said inside my apartment. I dropped my things, startled by the Batman.

"Batman! You just scared the hell out of me! How did you get in?" I asked, picking up the things I had dropped.

"Your window was unlocked. While you were gone, the Joker's killed three more and has put out a hit for Harvey Dent. The Joker wants me to take off my mask for Gotham and until I do, more people are going to die,"

"That's lethal. What are you going to do, Batman? Are you going to tell Gotham who you really are?" I asked.

"Harvey Dent is holding a press meeting tomorrow. Your boss, Bruce Wayne will be there as well. It's only a matter of time before the Joker is caught," Batman continued.

"Okay, so I take it, I can have the day off tomorrow and possibly attend this meeting?" I asked, "Do you know if Bruce would mind?"

"Stay home—the Joker's been worse than ever. We can't risk him getting to you. But once we catch him, you need to be ready," Batman explained.

"Will do," I agreed. And with that, Batman was out my window once again. I sighed and sat down on my couch. I highly doubted they would catch the Joker, but in the event that they did catch him, what would I do? If they have him in County and in an interrogation room, there would be no way I could privately talk to him. I would be exposed for knowing him prior to the interrogation. Maybe I just won't show up to County if they catch him. They can't make me interrogate the Joker. This isn't part of my job description!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Monday came again. Harvey Dent held his press conference. I decided not to attend and stay at home and watch it on TV.

"Well let them take the Batman way away into protective custody," he said, "I am the Batman,"

My jaw dropped. Harvey Dent was the Batman! No freaking way! I was shocked, sitting there eating my bowl of grapes. Well, the Joker would have his work cut out for him, that's for sure. I hadn't heard from him in two weeks—not since the night he got me drunk. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of him everyday. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about the things he's told me everyday. Most of me agreed with what he's told me, but how could I ever bring myself to join forces with a mass murdering criminal? I'm not the murdering type! I didn't want to join forces with the Joker because it means casting myself out of the life I've known my entire life—the life I've worked so hard to get. But I didn't want to join forces with Batman either. It felt wrong selling out the Joker, even though he is a terrible criminal mastermind. Something about it just didn't sit well with me. And Bruce Wayne—what of him! He hired me out of nowhere and now is never around at Wayne Enterprises. He wanted me to do these analyses for his employees, which I am still working on, but I just don't see the use in it. Something about that situation made me feel used and in the dark.

"You never read my card!" a voice came suddenly from the other room. I sat up straight and realized I was still in my pajamas.

"Oh there you are! It's been a while," I said, eating another grape. The Joker walked casually into the living room from my bedroom and looked at the TV.

"So it's Harvey. I feel I've known it all along," he said. He was silent for a moment then glanced back at me.

"Where's the card?" I asked, putting the grapes on the coffee table.

"In your room," he responded, "but read it later. I just came by to ask you to wish me luck,"

"Oh, okay. Well, good luck," I replied and took the bowl of grapes back onto my lap and went back to watching the TV.

"You'll be seeing me sooner than you think," he said finally.

"And how's that?" I asked, not taking my eyes from the TV screen.

"I know they've asked you to question me. But I also know that you won't go through with it,"

"You don't know that, Joker," I replied with a small laugh.

"I do know that. You won't turn against one of your own. You're not one of them, even if you wanted to be—you're not one of them," he responded.

"As you said before—we'll see what happens, won't we? I mean, what's the fun in knowing what I'll do? Right? I mean, we don't plan, do we," I retaliated. A grin crossed his face.

"We'll see," he restated, then left my apartment.

I put the grapes down on the table and retrieved my analysis papers and my laptop. Anxiously bounding my leg up and down while the computer loaded, my mind whirled through every psychological concept I'd ever learned. I reviewed psychological models of behavior development and how cognition and behavior are connected to the biological wiring in our brains.

"What do I have, what do I have, what do I have?" I repeated aloud as I searched the internet for psychological ailments. There must be something very wrong with me. I hadn't been a psychological hypochondriac since my first year of graduate school, but I was beginning to think that something was very wrong with me. How could someone like me feel compassion for someone as lethal as the Joker?

I searched the internet first: Stockholm syndrome. Nope, not that. I'm not his captive. Or am I? I continued my search. Antisocial disorder. Definitely not that. Maybe it is Stockholm Syndrome? I searched further. I am not his captive though. This is ridiculous. I slammed my computer shut. I'm not crazy and I do not have some kind of disorder. Sometimes you just can't help how you feel about someone, no matter how lethal or crazy they may seem.

Maybe that's just it—maybe the Joker's not crazy at all. And besides—who's to say that Batman's not as crazy as the Joker? I'm sure they're more alike than Batman would like to admit. Batman has no problem killing people, just like the Joker—and reason's got nothing to do with the simple morality of taking someone else's life. Taking a life is taking a life, be it righteous or not. Maybe I'm the only sane person in this whole city.

I re-opened my laptop and opened up a Word document. I began typing up a formal analysis of Batman. Of course it was completely hypothetical, since I hadn't had the opportunity to speak with him in an interview style in which I could analyze and record the conversation, but I did the best I could.

When I finished my analysis of Batman, I began the Joker's. It wasn't until my phone rang and I was still writing about the Joker that I realized it had turned to night. I had literally spent the entire day writing about Batman's and the Joker's behavioral patterns. I jumped up and retrieved the phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss DiMarco, this is Lieutenant Gordon from the GPD. We've caught the Joker and would love for you to come on down to interview him in the interrogation room," My heart sank. They did catch him. They caught the Joker. What would I do? Would I go? I had to. I gave Batman my word that I would go if they caught the Joker. Wait—I thought Lieutenant Gordon died at the commissioner's funeral!

"Miss DiMarco? Are you there?" he asked again.

"I…I'm sorry. I thought you were dead, Lieutenant," I said finally.

"It was for the protection of my family," he said finally.

"Oh right, of course," I responded, "Yes, I'll be there,"

"We'll send a police car over to you right away," Gordon stated.

"Thank you. I'll see you soon then," I replied.

"We appreciate this a lot, Miss DiMarco," Gordon said.

"It's nothing, really," I responded, and then hung up the phone. Well, you have to do what you have to do, right? The Joker was caught and I gave Batman my word. It's only fair that I follow up on my word.

The GPD came to my apartment and picked me up. I was relieved for that, since it was later than I had imagined by time they arrived.

"Miss DiMarco, thank you for coming on such short notice," Gordon said as he led me into the facility. "The Joker's over there," he pointed to the jail cell in the middle of the room. GPD officers surrounded the cell and were putting more men into the cell with the Joker. He was just sitting there in his tight green vest, blue shirt and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and he had a slight grin on his lips as he saw me. I glanced over at him and then back to Gordon.

"What do we got, Gordon?"

"Nothing. No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias," Gordon explained.

I looked over at the Joker, sitting in the cell. No name, huh. He's clearly very skilled and intelligent to rid himself of any other previous alias he may have had.

"Do you mind if I got over there and talk to him?" I asked Gordon quickly.

"Well, we'll be putting him in the interrogation room shortly, if you can wait, but if you'd really like, go right ahead," he explained. I nodded my head and wandered over to the jail cell.

The Joker simply sat there with his hands placed atop his thighs. "So, Miss DiMarco—you came," he said with a sly grin. I wasn't facing him, but I wanted to.

"Joker, I'll be in to interrogate you shortly," I said, still not looking at him.

"Don't look so sad, Giada. I don't disappoint," he replied.


	7. Exposure

7. Exposure

"Alright, time to get up," one of the officers said as he unlocked the prison door. The Joker rose to his feet and met the officer inside. He held out his hands and let the officer snap the cuff about his wrists. He never took his eyes from me. I simply watched as they led him from the prison and down the hall and into the locked interrogation room.

"Miss DiMarco, I hope you don't mind, but your conversation will be monitored by video camera. It's protocol, unfortunately," Gordon explained to me.

"I understand. I record all of my sessions, but unfortunately in the psychology world, psych analyses tend to be confidential. I would really hate to violate my licensure," I explained.

"Well, if you get in trouble with the state, I'll be more than happy to take the fall for you, Miss DiMarco. Understand that you are violating confidentiality for the sake of Gotham's betterment," Gordon insisted.

"I will not condone that it is for the betterment of Gotham city, but I will also not condone that every single person is entitled to a confidential screening, criminal or not, and I'm sorry, Commissioner, but I cannot violate my code of ethics. I will interview the Joker for a psychological analysis, but I insist that the camera microphones be turned off to ensure the confidentiality of the Joker. I have a recorder of my own that will record the entire session and I will release it to you, but only when I am finished with my analysis," I stated firmly.

"Fair enough, but the camera stays on for your own safety. We need to be able to monitor what does on visually inside that interrogation for the safety of the interrogator," Gordon responded.

"Done," I said and shook his hand. Gordon led me down the hall and buzzed into the interrogation room. The room was dark and the Joker sat in the darkness, his hands in his lap. Only the whiteness of his face was visible: the black around his eyes was creased and running and his lips look full and red in the darkness. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and knew it.

"Try not to torture him too much," Gordon chuckled with me, "and that goes for you too!" he exclaimed to the Joker. The Joker simply licked his lips and shrugged. Gordon took me aside and said to me quietly, "If it gets to be too much for you at ay moment, just signal to that camera and we'll buzz you out of here,"

"Thank you, Commissioner, I appreciate it," I responded and then turned to face the Joker, sitting at the table. I waited to sit down until I heard Gordon buzz himself from the room.

"So we're alone finally," he said, licking his lips and clearing his throat.

"Not quite. That camera is recording us in here but without sound," I responded flatly.

"Without sound, eh?" he asked.

"Yes. I requested it of them because even a lethal criminal such as you deserves a fair and confidential psychological evaluation," I replied as I took out my papers and placed them on table.

"Don't talk like that, Giada. You know yourself you're not one of them," he coaxed and then licked his lips.

"I want you to know I'll be recording this session for my own analytical purposes," I responded, ignoring his comment as I placed my tape recorder on the table.

"Did you know that Commissioner Gordon works with the Batman?" the Joker asked, cocking his head to the side. I glanced up at him and raised my eyebrows.

"Yes, I did," I responded and I pressed the record button. "So, let's see, where should we start,"

"Wherever you'd like, Missssssss DiMarco," the Joker said as he sat back in his chair. I paused for a moment.

"Mr…uh, Joker," I began and then stopped. He just stared at me, waiting for me to continue. I sat there, unsure of what to say and where to begin my interview. I felt like I already knew him well enough to write an analysis—which I was in the process of doing earlier that day.

"What's the matter, beautiful? Cat got your tongue again?" he asked wit ha grin. I bit my lower lip in frustration and shut off the tape recorder. "I knew you couldn't do it,"

"You're right, I can't, but I'm going to have to act like I am because they are watching our every move in that damn camera. I am going to press that record button and I am going to ask you questions and you are going to answer them—not because they are questions to analyze your cognitive behavioral patterns, but because they are questions I want you to answer for my own personal reasons. We're going to make a game out of it, okay? Because you…you, Joker—you fascinate me like no other, so are you ready?" I asked finally. He started laughing at the idea of making this interrogation a game.

"A game! I love the way you think. You have me at your disposal," he responded with a finishing grin. He raised an eyebrow.

"And you must answer truthfully to these questions, because as you said, you cannot trust me until I can trust you. Here's where the trust begins, Joker," I finished. I pressed the record button.

"You have my word, Giada, but tell me, what is it that you value most in people?" the Joker asked.

"I'm the one asking the questions," I said firmly.

"Yes, of course, but I am asking you this one question and I think in order for me to trust you, I need you to answer it," he replied, licking his lips.

"I value trust and honesty in people," I responded.

"Fair enough," he stated. Where do I begin? I have his word that he will answer any question I ask him with honesty. The recorder was going and there was nothing but silence between us.

"How did you really get your scars?" I asked finally, leaning forward, trying to get closer to him.

"I'll tell you, but at a later time," he replied.

"No. You tell me now and I'll tell you how I got these," I said as I revealed my own scars. The Joker was elated at this but still decline.

"I'm flattered, but still, ask me that later in the session. I'll tell you, but just not right now," he responded. I buttoned my shirt and then thought further of what question I could begin with that he would answer.

"What is your real name?" I asked.

"Jack Napier," he replied. Well, he really was J then. "What's yours?"

"Uh, Giada DiMarco?" I responded in question.

"But what was your name when you got those scars, because I can't believe that you've always gone by 'Giada'," he insisted. My heart fluttered. How did he know I used to go by Jade?

"Well, Giada is my real name, but when I got the scars, I went by Jade," I replied truthfully. He nodded.

"Jade," he repeated and then licked his lips.

"Why do you paint your face?" I asked, changing the subject from me to him.

"Why did you?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, incredulous.

"Why did you paint your face?" he asked again.

"I asked you first," I responded, crossing my arms.

"Indeed, but I'm sure my reason isn't nearly as exciting as yours," he retaliated. "Let's face it, Giada, you're not perfect. Sure, you've never killed anyone or robbed a bank, but you're hands aren't clean either," I bit my lip. He was right, but how did he know this? Was it just a good guess because are too much alike? Or did he really know about the things I've done in my past?

"You answer first, then I'll tell you about my reasons," I held firmly, "because it doesn't matter what I did in my past. I'm here right now, interrogating you,"

"Fair enough, Jade. I paint my face because it allows me to be myself—the Joker," he replied. No real reason to it at all. "It's also a way for me to give a face to the scars,"

There is it. It's for the scars. So it's possible he didn't cause the scars himself. I kept that in the back of my mind.

"No it's your turn," he said.

"I used to paint my face when I worked at the Jokers Wild. It was part of my job," I paused for a moment, "My father was in the mafia and he was killed by another mob dealer when I was eight. When I was twelve, my mother married my stepfather in Italy; he too was part of the mafia, but he was not the good guy my father was. He lied to me whenever he told me things were going to be okay. I would go to bed every night terrified the rest of his mafia would be inside of our house. When I was thirteen and fourteen, I found out he was dealing cocaine and unfortunately, I became addicted to the stuff. By the time I was in my high school years I was working at the Jokers Wild as a dancer to finance my cocaine addiction brought on by my stepfather, because he and his mafia guys would never let me have any of it once I was addicted. To them, it was sick joke to see me work for something they had a ready abundance of. They would go the Jokers Wild and watch me dance and snort lines on the tables out back while I danced. To hide who I really was, because I embarrassed at my life, I painted my face and went by the name Jade. It worked because I was a Joker—like you—I too was J," I explained.

"And the scars?" he asked, his grin widening with the truth of my story.

"It was this one night at the Jokers Wild that I was dancing. I had just danced and I was meeting my dealer outside in the back of the club. Well, my stepfather and his mafia gang saw me and how badly I needed a hit, so as a cruel joke, they shot my dealer and took the cocaine from me and disposed of it all over the pavement. I never wanted to be a drug addict but I was, well, addicted and needed it. Not knowing what to do, I kicked in a car window with my high heels and took the broken glass and went after my stepfather—he was the one who shot my dealer. We struggled a bit until he turned the glass on me and cut it right into my chest," I showed him the scars again.

"I had never bled so much. But in no time, people leaving the club were aware of what was going on and called the cops. My stepfather and his gang left me there for dead, but the ambulance came and brought me to the ER where they stitched me up. It was there that they realized I was going through cocaine with drawl. My mother had no idea of anything that was going on because I was a good student in school and always got good grades—she had no idea I was into drugs. I went into rehab and my mother ended up divorcing my stepfather—it was after that I was able to turn my life around into what it is today," I finished.

"A wonderful story, Giada! I always knew you had it in you—you weren't perfect," the Joker responded.

"Well how about you? How did you get your scars? How are you so inner intelligent?" I asked finally, wiping the few tears from my eyes.

"How old are you now, Giada?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"Twenty-five, almost twenty-six. You?" I asked, irritated he had again dodged my questions.

"Twenty-nine," he replied, "Back in 2003, I was in the war in Iraq. I was captured by…whoever…and they interrogated me, much like you are now—except they threatened me with torture. I would say anything—afraid to expose the plan we had. Well, that was no good, because the plan was what they wanted to know, so they decided to make me talk…by doing this. 'Why so serious?' they asked me after they handed me the mirror. 'Now you smile all the time at your plans' they said to me,"

My heart sank for him. I couldn't bring myself to ask him anything else. I wanted to hold him, tell him I felt for you.

"Don't get that look in your eyes, Giada. You felt the pain too—the same pain I felt, but now look at me—I'm always smiling!" he responded with a bright laugh. I leaned in close him. I wanted to kiss him. He had been right the whole time—we were much more alike than I had never anticipated.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Joker," I said finally, realizing I could not kiss him because we were being watched.

"You get yourself out of here," he said finally, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips.

"I…I…" I stuttered.

"You what?" he asked. My heart was torn apart. The pain from my past and his rose up inside me like it had all happened yesterday. I was here for the GPD and Batman—I wanted to help them, but I wanted to help the Joker. I felt for the Joker. He was my companion. He understood me like no one else.

"Miss DiMarco, I'm sorry to interrupt, but it is imperative that I talk to the Joker right away," Gordon said after he buzzed into the room.

"Oh, yes of course," I stopped the recorder and stood up, averting my eyes from the Joker. He did not take his eyes from me once. I felt his eyes on me.

"Harvey Dent never made it home," Gordon whispered to me as he escorted me out of the room. I was then locked out of the room and escorted to the room with the TVs showing the interrogation room.


	8. Dinner Date

8. Dinner Date

_Disclaimer: I use some Dark Knight material. I do not own this, obviously. Spoilers if you haven't seen the movie yet! Also, a HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to those of you who have reviewed the story! Thank you so much! Your input is fabulous! I love you ALL!! Keep R&R!_

I stood watching the black and white interrogation room as Gordon sat across from the Joker. I could only imagine what they were saying:

"_Evening…cooomissioner," _the Joker greeted him.

"_Harvey Dent never made it home," _

"_Of course not," _the Joker replied.

"_What have you done with him?" _Gordon asked.

"_Me…?" he paused, "I was right here," _he held up his cuffed wrists_. "Who did __**you**__ leave him with? Hm? __**Your**__ people? Assuming, of course, they are __**still**__**your**__**people**__…and not… Maroni's. Does it depress you, Commissioner? To know just how alone…you really are. Does it make you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current…predicament?"_

"_Where is he?" _

"_What's the time?"_

"_What difference does that make?"_

"_Well, depending on the time, he may be in one spot…or several," _he raised his eyebrows and licked his lips.

"_If we're going to play games," _Gordon said as he un-cuffed the Joker_, "I'm going to need a cup of coffee," _

"_Ah, the good cop, bad cop routine?" _theJoker asked Gordon as he walked away_. _

"_Not exactly," _Gordon responded as he buzzed out of the room. I was so entranced with watching the soundless TV that I was startled to see Gordon return so soon.

"Get Batman in there," Gordon ordered. I looked around to see if Batman was there, but I couldn't find him anywhere.

"Batman's here?" I asked suddenly.

"Yes. We work together," Gordon said as he watched the screen. I hated watching the screen with no sound. Suddenly, on the TV screen, the lights turned on and Batman slammed the Joker's head down onto the table. He mouthed something to Batman and Batman slammed his hand down onto the Joker's. My heart skipped a beat. I didn't want Batman beating up the Joker! This wasn't going to get them anywhere!

"Gordon, please let me back in there—I can finish my interrogation," I pleaded finally.

"Batman needs to get this done. We have to find out where Harvey Dent is," Gordon explained.

"Well I can get the Joker to talk without hurting him," I said finally.

"Batman will do just fine. This is exactly what he needs," Gordon stated. They turned the sound back on so we could hear everything they were saying. Batman was sitting in front of the Joker, like I had been earlier. The Joker was right in saying that Batman and they were like and that they were only using him. One day, they would definitely cast him out: _"like a leper,"_ as the Joker said. But all too soon, it turned violent.

"He's in control," Gordon said. Batman had the Joker pinned up against the glass. I held my breath. The suddenly, the Batman flipped him over onto the table.

"Stop him! He's hurting him! That's going to do any good!" I screamed suddenly. Gordon ran from the room but Batman placed a chair under the interrogation door so he could not get in. I turned away from the TV screen, unable to watch Batman kicking the shit out of the Joker. All I could hear was the laughter thought Batman's growls.

"Make him stop!" I shouted suddenly as I turned back to the screen and saw Batman kick the Joker. But the Joker just kept laughing. Batman really did have nothing on him.

"Detective Stephens, take Miss DiMarco somewhere to sit down. This is apparently too much for her to handle," Gordon instructed.

"No, sir, really I'm fine. I just don't think is the way to handle anyone, that's all. As good as Batman supposedly is, I just don't see this being a fair way to handle any criminal,"

"Detective Stephens, I need you in the interrogation room right now. The Joker's told Batman where Harvey Dent is and where Rachel Dawes is. We're going to do our best to rescue them both," Gordon explained as he quickly left. Detective Stephens nodded.

"Will you be alright here?" he asked me.

"I'll be fine," I responded as I sat down in front of the screen. He left and went into the interrogation room. The Joker was sitting on the floor with his back up against the wall. Detective Stephens stood in front of the door.

"_I…want…my phone call. I want it. I want my phone call," _There was a paused between the two men.

"_How many of your friends…have I killed?"_

"_I'm a twenty-year man and I know the difference between punks and the freaks like you who just enjoy it…and you killed six of my friends,"_

The Joker mouth 'six', as he raised his eyebrows.

"_Do you know why…I use a knife? Guns are too quick. You can't savor all the…little…emotion. And…you see…in their…last moments…people show you who they really are. So in a way…I knew your friends better than you ever did," _He paused and licked his lips, _"would you like to know which of them were cowards?" _

"_I know you're going to enjoy this. I'm going to have to try and enjoy it…even more," _Detective Stephens said as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The Joker cracked his neck on either side. I looked around me—there was no one else in sight. Detective Stephens was about the beat the shit out of the Joker. I couldn't let him. I jumped up from my seat and ran to the interrogation room. Nothing can get accomplished through violence like that! I buzzed into the interrogation room.

"Stop it! I won't let you do this! You'll never get answers from him by hurting him!" I screamed as the Detective nailed the Joker one right across the face. The Joker grinned at me jumped to his feet.

"Huh?!" Detective Stephens turned around when he heard me. At that, the Joker took hold of the detective.

"I knew you'd change your mind…Giada," the Joker said as he dragged the detective out of the interrogation room.

"Change my mind?" I asked, confused.

"Oh, and you might want to get out of the building," he said as he left the room.

I ran from the interrogation room and watched him walk down the hall with the detective. As I left the building, I heard him telling the others he only wanted his phone call. I knew he had something planned, so I ran from the building and I ran as far away as I could. By the time I reached my apartment building, I heard a huge explosion. I figured it must have been from the GPD station or perhaps County. Or maybe even on the outskirts of town where Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes possibly were. I hadn't a clue, so, my nerves shaking, I made my way up the stairs of the building, into the elevator and up to the top floor where I lived. When I arrived there, I didn't want to go inside, so I went up to the roof and sat there a while. I saw the smoke from tow explosions whirling into the night air. A chill ran up and down my spine. Who knows where the Joker ran. He could be anywhere by now.

After a few moments of catching my breath and wondering where the Joker has disappeared to, I went back down to the floor of my apartment and unlocked the door. I turned on the lights. My stomach was growling, Gotham City was more or less afire, and the Joker, the one person I really wanted to talk to, was gone. Walking over to my stereo, I put on some music and decided to make some good home cooking. It had been a while since I had eaten Italian.

"Here I am! Rock you like a hurricane!" I belted out as I cut up my ingredients and placed them into the heated pan on the stove. "Here I am, rock you like a hurricaneeee!!" I danced over to the stove. When in crisis and when in doubt of one's sanity, listen to 80's rock. It makes everything better.

"My body is burning, it starts to shout! Desire is coming, it breaks out loud! Lust is in cages, till storm breaks loose! Just have to make it with someone I choose! The night is calling, I have to go! The wolf is hungry, he runs to show. He's licking his lips; he's ready to win, on the hunt tonight, for love at first sting!" I sang loudly as I sautéed my ingredients and added the tomatoes.

"Rock you like a hurricane!" I shouted again as grabbed a box of pasta from the cabinet and spun around, eyes tightly shut, pretending to hold a microphone like an 80's rock star. Then I heard the clapping. I opened my eyes and saw the Joker standing in the door way to my apartment.

"What a show! Keep singing! I didn't you know were such—a performer, Giada!" The Joker laughed as he shut the door and walked all the way into the apartment.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked with a small laugh as I poured the pasta into boiling water.

"Just long enough to hear you sing that last whole verse—you know, the one before 'here I am! Rock you like a hurricane!" he mimicked me, fake microphone and all. I felt my skin burn up with embarrassment as he clapped again. I hid my smirk and went into the fridge for some cheese.

"Again, a very entertaining show, my dear," he responded.

"Thank you. I tend to love 80s rock," I chuckled.

"So, what's for dinner tonight?" he asked as he came over to the stove, ungloved one of his hands and tasted the tomato sauce (gravy as we Italians in Boston call it).

"Hey! Wash your hands first! I don't know how many people you've killed between now and when I last saw you!" I exclaimed, slapping his hand away from the pot. "And besides, who said you were _invited_ to dinner?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Fair enough. You win. Where's your soap?" He asked as he removed his gloves and ran the water.

"To your left," I replied as I tried some pasta from the water.

"There. Happy?" he asked as he displayed his clean hands.

"Now. My second question—who said you were invited to join me for dinner?" I asked, still cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh Giada, you do play a good game—but you _did_ help me tonight at County and for that I know that _you_ won't disappoint. You started the night as one of them and you ended the night with me. You don't deny it…do you?..._Jade_?" he asked slowly as he came a bit closer to me.

"First of all, don't call me Jade. Second of all, just because I helped you, doesn't mean I've 'switched sides', if you will. I was trying to give you the same fair break anyone else deserves," I replied, turning back to the stove. He then came up behind me, pressing himself entire against me.

"That's the beauty of the way we think—it's fair. The way they think isn't fair, Giada—you know that. And you just wait—when they cast you out—like they will with Batman—you'll see. Then you'll see how fair they play and how fair I play. You'll come to me," he said softly, right into my ear.

Having him so close up against me and hearing his voice right in my ear sent chills up and down my spine. He excited me and he knew he did, because he placed an arm around my waist and spun me around so he was pressed up against me from the front and I was leaning back against the counter. I averted my eyes from his momentarily, and then I finally looked into his eyes. As if life couldn't be more perfect—or strange—the song 'Like a Virgin' came on.

I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, as Madonna sang loud and proud: _'I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through. Didn't know how lost I was until I found you. I was beat, incomplete. I'd been had, I was sad and blue, but you made me feel, yeah you made me feel shiny and new—like a virgin!'_

Sometimes I really hate my life. Well, there really are no coincides in life. I figured I would just keep laughing. The Joker caught on too and he laughed. I decided to sing to him:

"like a virgin! Touched for the very first time! Like a viiiiiiiiiiiiiiirgin! When your heart beats, next to mine!" I pushed away from the counter and grabbed his hands and kept singing, trying to make him dance with me.

"You're so fine, and you're mine, I'll be yours, till the end of time, 'cause you made me feel, yeah you made me feel I've nothing to hide!" I belted, making complete eye contact with him. I guess a lot of what Madonna had to say was true for me—he did make me feel I had nothing to hide. Oh well! He seemed to enjoy it. And what surprised me more was that he proved to be a better dancer that I had pinned him for! The song ended and he dipped me.

"Joker, you're one hell of a dancer!" I laughed as I brushed myself off and took the pasta off the stove.

"I'm just full of surprises," he responded with a grin. I glanced over at him and smiled back and continued getting my food ready. I then brought my bowl of penne to the table and glanced over at him.

"I guess you can stay for dinner," I replied with a playful tone. "Help yourself. It's penne and my mother's secret gravy recipe," I said as I sat down and began eating.

"Gravy—that's a Bostonian thing, isn't it," he responded as he set his bowl of penne and gravy down on the table across from me.

"Yeah, it is," I laughed, unable to believe he knew something like that. Everyone had always made fun of me for calling tomato sauce 'gravy'—everyone that wasn't an Italian from Boston. Grinning back at me, he sat down. We sat there and ate a couple bites, until he finally sat back in astonishment.


	9. Intellectual Fornication

9. Intellectual Fornication

_Disclaimer: Thank you ALL SO MUCH for the reviews!! I really appreciate them! So, this chapter a little—ah—very, inappropriate, but I think you Joker lovers will enjoy it…if you get my drift wink hehehehe!_

"Augh! Your mother must be epicure for food!" the Joker exclaimed with a laugh.

"What? Why?" I asked, putting down my fork.

"This is incredible, Giada. Let's call her and tell her what a great cook she is!" he giggled as he threw his napkin onto the table.

"Well, considering I'm the one who cooked it, you could just tell me what a great cook _I_ am," I responded with a grin.

"But that would be too easy. Where's the fun in that?" he asked with a grin.

"I can be fun! You said it yourself that I'm '_too much fun'_," I replied, instigating him. We ate some more pasta in silence for a bit until he finally spoke again.

"Well," he said, sitting there with a slight pout on his lips, "I guess you're just going to have to prove that to me,"

"How the fuck do you expect me to prove something to you that _you've_ already stated?!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air as I took my plate into the kitchen and placed it into the dishwasher.

"Now that's the kind of fun I'm talking about," he said, letting his full lips escape into a smirk, "I mean, why else would I be here right now…with you…Giadaaa, hm?"

"You know, you tell me how much we think alike—and just because I helped you out tonight that I should join sides with you, but really, let's be honest here, Joker, why _are_ you really here tonight? There's so much more I'm sure you could be doing right now besides having dinner with me. I mean, this could be your idea of 'fun', but I find it hard to believe that you have nothing better to do than to have a dinner date with me. What's so fun about me? What's so fun about the way I think and the way I conduct my life? You know more about me now than any other person and yet, somehow, you manage to find me still fun and interesting. I know you want me to join you, blah blah blah, but tonight—why are you here _tonight_? You just blew Gotham City to high hell tonight, and you end up at my door. Why?"

"Sometimes you have to find time for other kinds of fun. I'm a man on simple tastes, Giada. As you know, I like guns, and dynamite, and gasoline…but that's not all," he stated, standing up from his seat.

"You like money—Batman says you kill for money," I responded, crossing my arms.

"Money? Giada, what do you take me for? You think I'd blow up half of Gotham for a lousy million or billion? No—it's not that at all—it's about sending a message. I am an agent of chaos—things make sense when there is chaos because there's no plan involved—it's just…chaos," he explained as he motioned in the air with his hands.

"But that still doesn't explain why you came to my apartment to see me tonight after you blew up half of Gotham," I reiterated.

"How about some of that punch?" he asked with a grin, obviously ignoring my question. I just stood there, staring at him. He was unbelievable. He blows up a city and then instead of running away somewhere else, he figures it'd be more lucrative and 'fun' to come harass me half to hell instead! He could be devising his next course of action, but he says he has no plans. Dubious, but I had to take him at his word. After all, he took me at mine.

"Punch? Really?" I asked, sarcastically, "And do you want it for me, or for you?"

"Where's the fun in knowing that? How about this…how about you show me where you keep your…stash…and I'll surprise you with a little…beverage," he responded, licking his lips and tilting his head slightly. I breathed in for a moment and sighed, looking at him.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? If I let you surprise me with an alcoholic beverage, you're probably going to slip me a roofie,"

"Do I look like the kind of guy who would slip you a roofie?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yeah," I laughed, "actually, you do seem like that type of guy who would,"

"Well you're sorely mistaken, Giada, dear. We've already established that…I know you better than you know yourself. For instance…I would not slip you a roofie…one, because I am not currently in possession of said substance…and two… I don't need to…'roofie' you to get…'action' …as it were, from you," he replied calmly, using quotations with this hands for 'action'. I grinned slightly. Yeah, he was right. I would sleep with him and it wouldn't take a roofie to get me to do so. Damn it! I hate it how he knows me better than I do!

"Well I suppose your reasoning is as good as mine. And since you happen to know myself better than I do," I walked over to him and took him by the wrist and led him over to my liquor cabinet, "you have carte blanche with this cabinet. Why not have a little fun, right?" I asked, giving him a seductive look as I turned and left the kitchen.

"That's what I'm talking about now," he responded, flashing me a crooked grin. "Just get comfortable on that couch, Giada—I'll be right out with your surprise drink!" he giggled. I sat down on the couch. Oh man, what the hell was I getting myself into. I really hoped it wasn't the God-awful punch I drank the last time. That stuff was horrible. I could help but get the feeling of déjà vu as I waited for him to bring me my surprise beverage. How could he and I possibly be in the same position as last time—my living room and the couch with alcohol—it was all too familiar. Hopefully it wouldn't end the way it did last time. Hopefully he'd surprise me one way or another. Maybe he'd surprise me with a knife in my throat. Well, I guess the joke's on me then, right? At this point, it would be too late to go back. We knew far too much about one another to kill the other off—he couldn't kill me off because he was too fascinated with me and I couldn't kill him because I was infatuated with him—we were beginning to fall into a waltz of treachery.

"Your drink is ready!" the Joker exclaimed with a giggle as he appeared around the corner of the kitchen and out into the living room.

"Thank you, dear! I'm very excited to try it!" I exclaimed with a similar giggle. Jesus—I really was turning into him! He handed me the beverage—it was a deep purple-red, almost the color of blood.

"I hope you enjoy it…it's…my specialty," he responded with a grin.

"Dare I ask what's in it?" I asked, a bit skeptical.

"Well that would just take the surprise right out of it, wouldn't it?" he asked, setting his drink down on the table.

"Joker, it's a drink the color of blood. Don't you think I'm going to be a little skeptical of what's in it?" I asked, putting the glass down. He licked his lips and then tilted his head to the side.

"What's the matter, Giada? Don't you…trust me?" he asked finally. It was the creepiest thing I think he'd ever said to me—even creepier than his fake story about the scars after we first met. I figured I'd let him know.

"That was the creepiest thing you've ever said to me, Joker," I said, apparently speaking my mind freely. I can never tell if that's a good thing to do with the Joker. But he received it well.

"Well then I'll just take that and give it a little taste-test before you drink it," he said, taking the glass and taking a sip from it. I knew it wasn't poisoned. I doubt he would have drank it if it was poisoned. Well, then again, there wouldn't be much stopping him if it _was_ poisoned. I'd be left with the body of the Joker in my apartment. Good luck explaining _that_ to the GPD.

"See? Perfectly safe to drink," he stated. He set the glass down on the table, kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket. He then sat down next to me and wouldn't take his eyes from me until I picked up the drink. Fuck it. I took the drink in my hand and took a sip.

"This tastes like grape juice mixed with cranberry juice," I said finally, my heart no longer pounding in my chest. I felt so relieved. I took a big gulp and then another one after that. He just grinned and took small sips from his. Then, licking his lips, he spoke again.

"That's the surprise. It tastes like grape juice and fruit juice, but the surprise is what it does to you after you're done drinking it,"

"I don't even think you put any alcohol in it. You want me to think you did, but you really didn't," I replied as I finished my glass.

"Or maybe that's what I want you to believe so you would drink it quickly, thinking there's nothing in it that can get you…intoxicated, when really, there is…quite a bit," he smirked and took another small sip from his glass. His lips looked so full. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me and never stop.

"Maybe you want me to think you didn't put any in and have you tell me you did but you really didn't, so either way, we're just mind fucking each other right now," I stated.

"Isn't that the fun though? Meeting your intellectual match and being engorged in a deep penetration of the mind with which you have no control? I mean, Giada, you can't deny that your mind is spinning in a million…little…directions, but with my prodding, our minds can intellectually fornicate for as long as we let them," he replied and then licked his lips.

That's a new term—intellectually fornicate. I let out a laugh. Oh, there it was. He did put alcohol in that drink. Damn—how did he do it? It tasted just like grape juice!

"I don't think it's fair for me to be the only drunk one again, though, Joker. I want to see what you're like under the influence," I said, "I want our minds to have hot, drunk, sweaty intellectual fornication," I laughed at his term again. He finished his beverage let out a laugh with mine.

"That's not all you want, Giada," he said finally. I glanced over at him and saw his dark brown eyes glossing over. He was drunk too, though he'd never let me believe it.

"Well, what else do you think I want—besides our minds joining as one…in an intellectual fornication?!" I laughed again at his term, this time harder than before. The Joker couldn't contain himself. He too exploded into a flood of amusement.

"So you do want to join our minds then!" he exclaimed as he jumped off the couch.

"No! I didn't say I would join you! I said I wanted our minds to fornicate!" I laughed as I curled up into a drunken ball on the couch. He then felt it would be a good idea to hop back onto the couch and tickle the hell out of me. I squirmed and shrieked for him to stop until I was kneeling up, facing him.

"Like I said—that's not all you want," he said in a soft low voice.

"I think that's not all _you_ want," I responded with a chortle, "Oh Joker, you're so good at playing these mind games with me—turning what you want onto me! But I can do the same to you! I think that is what _you_ want!"

"What do I want?" he asked, burning his eyes into mine.

"You want to do more with me than intellectually fuck my mind," I responded, no longer laughing. His face softened as I said that and he sank down into a sitting position on the couch.

"And you're projecting this onto me…because…you want me to do more than intellectually fuck you," he replied finally, glancing up at me.

"And if I did? We're both so good at projecting the things we want onto each other—why can't we just do what the other wants without projecting onto them?" I asked finally, "I mean, I know it's not as fun for you, but I think you know by now that I can play your little mind games quite well, and well, to be frank, I just want you to play your mind games with me, because they are the only things that really make sense to me," I stated. He licked his lips and then peered up at me. Reaching up behind him to the light switch, he slowly turned the lights lower. I breathed in and swallowed, not really knowing what he was going to do next. He really had me speechless at this point. Suddenly, without warning, he pulled me on top of him—we had been in this position before. Instead of holding my arms down at my shoulders, he took my hands in his and placed them on his face.

"Look at me," he said firmly. I did as I was told as he placed my hands on his scars and let me touch them. "What are you thinking as you touch them?" he asked as he licked his lips.

"I don't know—I'm speechless," I said right away. And to be honest, I really was speechless. The lights were dim, I was drunk, he was sitting down, and I was straddling him again. It didn't scare me to touch his scars, but I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to kiss him.

"That's not what you're thinking," he said, as his hands slid down my hands and circled my wrists. I had expected him to grab them forcefully, but he held them lightly. He was right. That wasn't what I was thinking, but I didn't know how to say what I was thinking. How do you tell a mass murdering criminal who had blown up half a city earlier that night that you are infatuated by them and that you want them to make love to you? I really am crazy.

"What are you thinking?" he asked again, this time more forcefully, as his hands tightened around my wrists.

"I love it that you're always smiling," I said finally.

"Ah—always smiling. That's just it—I'm not," he responded.

"Well, neither am I," I replied, trying to change the subject. Maybe he _would_ kill me after all. Enough with the scars!

"What are you…really thinking…as you touch them? I mean…the same could be said for you if I touched yours. What am _I_ really thinking?" He asked as he let his hands leave my wrists and graze over the scars on my chest, covered by my shirt.

"I…I," I licked my lips as we gazed at each other.

"No need to be nervous, Giada," he said, "I already know more about you than you think I do,"

I wondered if he knew what I was thinking and he just wanted me to say it aloud.

"I…I…I want you to kiss me," I said finally, my heart pounding fiercely inside my chest. Oh God, what would he do? What would he say to that? When was the last time someone wanted the Joker to kiss them? He would definitely kill me now he if didn't believe me. My hands were shaking. I know he knew how nervous I was, considering my shaking hands were still touching his scars. Tired of waiting for his response, I shut my eyes for a moment, breathed in and out once and then re-opened them.

"I want you to touch mine now," I said finally, and removed my shirt entirely. I took his hands and placed them on the scars on my chest.

"What are you thinking as you touch _my_ scars?" I asked, re-gaining control of the situation, now that the tide had turned. He just sat there, softly feeling my scars. His hands looked much lighter against my olive skin—they matched the color of my scars. Suddenly, when our eyes met again, I could feel his hands shaking like mine had. He quickly pulled them away and looked back at me, raised his eye brows and licked his lips.

"You didn't answer me," I said, raising my eyebrows to match his.

"What you would do to me if I did kiss you," he replied finally, taking a moment to breathe after he spoke.

"I guess you'll never know unless you do," I stated, "I mean…where's the fun in knowing what I'd do?" I let out a small laugh. After a moment and he still didn't say anything, I continued, "We're both so exposed now, at this point, would it really matter?"

I didn't even know where my mind was going at this point. I could almost feel as though the Joker was softening up in this moment—the lights dim, the alcohol, the touching of the scars. It was all kind of bogus, really, but I felt human, and I think he did too. It must have been the first time he'd felt this way in a long while. I don't think he knew how to handle it. Maybe I should get the ball rolling. Maybe I should kiss him. There would be no way he'd do it on his own. Maybe he would. After all, he _is_ the Joker. It would be his style to make me believe he isn't going to kiss me, and then…

He positioned his hands on my face and placed his full lips to mine. I half expected him to pull away after that, but he deepened the kiss. My hands automatically traveled up to his head. I grabbed onto his hair as he continued to kiss me. I didn't want him to stop. He did stop kissing me, but he moved lips elsewhere. He pulled me closer to him and kissed my neck. His lips really were soft as they glided down my neck and to my chest. My hands kept holding onto his hair as he kissed my chest and then back up to my neck. I then tilted my head to my left and started to lick his earlobe. He released a low sigh, so I decided to go further with it. I softly grazed his earlobe with my teeth and then gently bit it. This was too much for him to handle. He let out a small chuckle followed b a moan.

"Oh, Giada, you really know how to get a guy going," he said, slightly moaning, as I kissed his neck. I could see where my face had brushed against his, because the white was smudged so that I could see bits of his skin beneath it. I knew I must have some white paint on my face. I didn't care. I had an idea. I stopped kissing him and sat up straight.

"Oh, why'd you stop?!" he groaned, shaking his head, "I was really starting to get into it,"

"Come on," I said as I lifted myself off of him and grabbed him by the wrist.

"What? Where are we going?" he asked, glancing around.

"This way," I said as I shoved him down the hall and into my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and pushed him onto my bed. I then crawled on top of him and kissed his lips.

"Oh, I do like this much better," he responded, licking his lips.

"Yeah? You like this?" I asked playfully as I pinned his arms down to the bed, just above his head.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied as he glanced down to where I was straddling him. Yeah, he liked it alright. I could feel it through _his_ pants _and_ mine! The Joker must be well endowed. Still holding him by the wrists, I kissed him. I ran my tongue across his bottom lip and then bit it right before I deepened the kiss. I then let go of his wrists and unbuttoned his green vest. He loosened his tie and then hoisted himself up so he could remove the vest. He tossed it to the floor and I began unbuttoning his blue shirt. What the hell!? The more I unbuttoned, the more I was taken by surprise. He had an unbelievable body—it was beautiful. No scars that I could see from the front, and he was really toned. He took off the shirt once I finished unbuttoning it. I placed my hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him again but he stopped me.

"My turn," he said finally, grinning.

"My shirt's already off," I smirked back at him.

"Uh uh," he said, and then with one hand, unclasped my bra. I rolled my eyes as the straps fell from my shoulders. Damn, he had skill! I dated plenty of guys who couldn't unclasp a bra with one hand. Maybe he'd had more sex than I anticipated. I threw the bra to the floor and leaned over him, kissing his neck and chest. I really wanted to bust him out of his pants, but I figured I should make him wait it out—it'd be the playful, Joker-like thing to do.

Oh…wait…never mind. It was still his turn. Wrapping his arms around me, he flipped me onto my back and he crawled over next to me and kissed my lips. He let his right hand wander down my torso until he unbuttoned my jeans and took the liberty of wandering into my pants. I think he felt it would be a cruel joke for him to play with me over my underwear, seeing as how I was already wet and wanting him inside me. But no, he just took his sweet fucking time. I bit his lip as he kissed me and continued to finger me over my underwear. I wanted him so badly at this point. I was moaning, but not loudly, and my breathing was getting faster and faster.

"Joker, you need to stop or I'm going to come," I said finally. He just kept going. I placed both of my hands on the sides of his face and pulled him completely on top of him so I could feel him in his pants. As I let my hands slide over the scars, I could see the paint starting to wear off. He kept kissing me and I decided to flip him over. Straddling him, I unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them…and slid them down and off his legs. He wore boxer briefs. Never saw that one coming. Rather than analyze the Joker's choice of underwear (which happened to be my preference!), I slid those off of him as well.

"You waste no time, Giada," he said, looking down at me, licking his lips and grinning.

"When I want something, I go after it—go big or go home, as they say," I replied with a slight smirk. Finally, looking back to where I was…oh wow, he _was_ well endowed. I took him in my mouth and licked up and down the shaft and around the head. He let out a moan and pulled me up to him so he could kiss me. He rolled me over and kissed my neck and down to my chest…and all…the…way…down until he finally reached my pants. He simply slid them off and dropped them on the ground.

By now, a lot of his face paint had come off and was streaking all over my body. The black around his eyes was smudged and around his cheeks, most of the white was worn off—only the red remained most prominent. He removed my underwear and then leaned back over me and kissed me. I placed my hands right over his scars as he kissed me. Then, flipping him over, I got on top of him and kissed him all over his face, my lips gliding right over the scars—as though they weren't even there. He reached down with his right hand and touched me. I wanted him so bad. I let out a moan and a sigh.

"Put it in," I sighed into his ear. He reached down and grabbed himself, brushed the head against me, licked his lips as he stared up at me and then placed it in the hole. I sat back on him and he let out a moan as he disappeared inside. We thrusted for a bit with me on top, but then he flipped me over onto my back and he thrust in and out. Beads on sweat started to form at his temple, and dripped slowly down the side of his face. I could basically see him at this point without his painted face. I didn't even see the scars anymore. He bit his bottom lip as he continued to go in and out. I bit mine as well. Even his hair had seemed to lose its green tint. It just hung in front of his face as he hovered over me and continued thrusting.

….his scars were gone—I couldn't even see them anymore…he had a face behind that mask….and it was handsome…as he kissed me, I felt more than just the kiss…I felt his passion mixed with mine…I felt his desire…I wanted to join him…I wanted to be with him…I wanted him…I knew I was in deep…I was in love…I was in love with the Joker.


	10. Assassin's Tango

10. Assassin's Tango

The night was dark. All I could hear was his breathing beside me. The slow…steady…rhythmic…breathing, as his chest cavity slowly rose and fell. I could just barely see the outline of his body lying beside me. I rolled over onto my side with my back facing him. My mind began to wander…I was such a sap for romance. My heart pounded inside my chest as I imagined what it would be like fall asleep in his arms every night. Not even tonight did I fall asleep in his arms. I figured he wasn't the cuddling type (Gee, Giada, ya think!?).

But would it be like? What would it be like to be loved in return by the Joker? I would probably never get to know this, but I certainly couldn't stop myself from wondering. Was he even capable of loving?

No—I had been denying it to myself the whole time, but this man was a sociopath—incapable of feeling anything for anyone.

My heart sank at this defeat.

There. I thought it. I finally admitted it to myself. It was such a nice night; I just didn't want to get my hopes up for something that I very well knew could never be. The Joker was a mass murdering sociopath who happened to bed me for a bit of fun. I had fun too. Didn't really regret it at the moment.

Yes, I felt love for him, but he would never know this. I would do my damn best to keep it from him. Who knows what he would do with such information? He'd probably kill me for the sake of killing me. I would; were I a mass murdering sociopath, there would be nothing stopping me from killing the one person who loves me. I would have no remorse in doing so.

I guess there would no way for me to ever truly know if he has any capability in feeling compassion for anyone or anything—not unless it was threatened by someone else. Ooh, that's an idea. But it would never happen.

I rolled back over to my other side. He was still sleeping. The Joker—sleeping. Never thought I'd witness such an action. Everyone needs sleep, but to me he always just seemed to exist, but never as a person who needs water, food and sleep like all the rest of us. There he was—so vulnerable, lying beside me. Breathing. I wondered if he had reached REM yet. Wow, why would I think of REM and his sleep stages? I mentally slapped myself for that one. But really though, was he dreaming? Did the Joker ever dream? If he did, were his dreams of destroying Gotham? Killing Batman? Robbing banks? Kill innocent people? Blowing things up? Or where they the intangible dreams that he could never achieve? Feeling what other people can feel? Having someone love him despite the scars on his face?

"Giadaaa…" he groaned suddenly, and then turned onto his side. My heart skipped a beat. Was he awake? I remained perfectly still. I did not move, afraid that he was awake. Had he been awake the whole time? Was he dreaming? Was he dreaming of me?

I continued to breathe in and out as silently as possible. I remained still for what felt like eons, in silence. He was sleeping. He must have been dreaming. I released a sigh of relief and turned back onto my other side with my back facing him.

"Giadaaa?" he groaned again, but softer this time, as though searching for me. Suddenly, I felt him toss over to his other side. My heart raced. Then I felt myself being pulled close to him.

"There you are," he said sleepily as he fell back into a deep slumber. I could feel his breath on my neck. His body warmed my back. We fit so perfectly together in the so called "spooning" position. Letting my eyes close, I finally let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm no going anywhere," I quietly sighed as I slipped off into a slumber of my own.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When next I awoke to the sound of my alarm, the room was no longer dark, but now fully lit. I was alone. The Joker had gone without saying good-bye. At first, my heart sank at his absence, but then I just figured it was something he would do. _Don't take offense, Giada. He's the Joker, remember? _I thought, as I got up and started cleaning my room. I then went into the bathroom and too a shower, brushed my teeth—got ready for work. I had forgotten I had to go to work today! Thank God my alarm went off or I would have over slept!

With all of this Joker business, I had forgotten the real and only reason I had even gone to Gotham in the first place! After quickly applying some makeup and drying my hair, I got dressed and gathered all of my work things. Just as I was about to shut my brief case of psychological analyses, I noticed a card sticking out that wasn't there before. I pulled it out of the rest of the papers. It was a Joker card. Written on it, not typed this time, was a message from the Joker: _Let's do that again sometime, - J._ I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Yeah, it fucking better had been a good time! Looking at the clock, I shoved it back into my brief and left my apartment.

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"Giada, Mr. Wayne isn't in today—his dear friend Rachel Dawes was killed last night and Harvey Dent is in critical condition at the Gotham General Hospital," Lucius Fox said as he greeted me in my office.

"Oh no! They weren't in that explosion last night, were they?!" I exclaimed, placing my hand to my chest.

"Yes—the Joker had them set up. Harvey survived but is now badly burnt. Rachel, unfortunately, didn't make it,"

"Oh no, that is terrible! Is Bruce going to be okay? Is he home right now?" I asked, "I should send him some flowers or something—condolences…"

"Mr. Wayne will be just fine, Giada. Your concerns are appreciated though," he responded with a small smile and left my office. Jesus, Rachel died and Harvey was burnt half to hell from the Joker's explosions! I had no idea he was targeting them! For what reason? Oh, I knew very well for what reason—they were dating! Why not make Batman choose which one of them to save? That was terrible! And yet…very clever. No! What was I thinking! It was sick and twisted!...but it made so much sense. And Harvey Dent is Gotham's White Knight—why not target him? He would now be weakened by being in the hospital. Of course he was targeting Harvey! Now that Gotham's White Knight was in critical condition at the Gotham General ICU, it was only a matter of time before the Joker would strike again.

Trying not to think of what his next plan of action would be—probably blowing up Gotham General—I got to working on my evaluations. I called in my first interview of the day. As they sat in front of me, I took out my papers and went to begin the interview.

"Miss DiMarco? What's that?" They asked, pointing to the Joker card on my desk. Oh shit, it must have fallen out when I reached into my brief case.

"Jesus, is that a joker card?!" I exclaimed, trying to hide the fact I knew very well what it was.

"It has writing on it—" they exclaimed, thinking that I was the next victim. I quickly grabbed the card so they could not read it.

"Oh you're right! Holy shit!" I exclaimed as I threw it into my trash can.

"What did it say? Are you his next victim?! Get me outta here! He's probably got Wayne Enterprises rigged to blow!" they shrieked as they ran from my office. Shit. What now? They were probably going to go screaming that down every hallway on every floor. I had to get out of the building before I was discovered as being an ally to the Joker. No. I couldn't leave. That would just affirm my relation to the Joker. Maybe I should find Lucius Fox and get him on my side. No—I had to get to Gotham General and find the Joker. I knew he was there. Where else would he be, but trying to get Harvey Dent to become Gotham's dark knight? I knew the Joker all too well—he would kick Harvey while he was down. People are easy to keep down once they've fallen—it's so much easier than trying to help them up after something like this. I had to tell someone—Batman—anyone!

"Lucius, there's a scare going on around the building that the Joker's got this place rigged to blow," I said as I knocked on his door.

"Oh?"

"Yeah—just thought I'd let you know before someone came screaming into your office," I responded with a smile.

"Well, you're the one with the card, Giada. Is it…rigged to blow?" he asked. My heart sank.

"Oh, so you already heard?" I asked, with a small laugh.

"Yes—it's hard to ignore the words 'Wayne Enterprises' and 'rigged' and 'blow' all in the same sentence," he replied, returning a similar smile.

"Yes, I'd have to agree," I responded, "well, I just thought I'd forewarn you, but no need for that!"

"Tell me, Giada, do you know something?" he asked finally.

"Know something about what?" I asked, confused. Suddenly, I heard a commotion fomr behind me…in my office.

"About the Joker?" Lucius asked,

"Well, considering I met with him in the interrogation room last night, I know quite a bit about the Joker," I responded truthfully. I would not lie to Lucius.

"Where is your analytical report on him? Have you turned it into the GPD yet? Or are you going to wait for another building to get blown up?" he asked.

"I'm nearly done with it—I was going to finish it off and run it down to the GPD during my lunch break," I fibbed. Damn it! I said I would not lie to Lucius! I was just like the Joker.

"Miss DiMarco, we're here with the GPD—we've got reason to believe you're conspiring with the Joker," a man said as he showed me his badge.

"That's crazy! I'm not conspiring with that…that…raging madman!" I exclaimed.

"We're going to take you down to the GPD for some questioning. You're under the Miranda rights—anything you say from this moment on can and will be used against you in court, should it come to that," they said as they led me down the hall. Oh fucker, how the hell would I get out of this little predicament? Where was the Joker to blow up the GPD when you needed him?!

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At the GPD, they took my files and sat me down in the interrogation room. It was not the same one I had been in the night before, but it reminded me of my revelation with the Joker.

"Now, Miss DiMarco, were you not here last night interrogating the Joker?" the detective asked me.

"Yes, I was at County interrogating him. They asked me to question him for a psychological analysis on behavior and cognition—that's it," I replied.

"How long have you been employed by Bruce Wayne at Wayne Enterprises?" he asked.

"About…three weeks now," I responded.

"And you're from Boston, MA?" he asked.

"Yes. Born and raised," I replied, giving a sigh. What the fuck did that have anything to do with me and Joker being accomplices?

"So I see you have a joker card here—this was found in the trash can in your office—it has your DNA on it and his," the detective stated.

"Yes—it would have his DNA on it because he wrote on it. It would have mine on it because I was the one who threw it away," I replied with a snap. This was getting ridiculous. They couldn't prove anything.

"How can you explain this recording here of last night's interrogation?" he asked, removing the recorder from his bag of tricks.

"How did you get that? I was using it in my apartment to write my analysis," I responded, offended that they had gone through my apartment already!

"This was given to us early this morning from your place of residence by an anonymous individual," he responded, "but how do you explain its content?"

"I would explain its content to be revealing. And now that you'd broke my code of ethics, I'll take it back so that I can finish my analysis, thank you," I said as I snatched it from him.

"I wouldn't be so hasty—things aren't looking too good for you, Miss DiMarco," the detective stated.

"Detective! The Joker's threatened to blow up some hospital—possibly Gotham General! The GPD has orders from Commissioner Gordon to find Harvey Dent and to evacuate Gotham General," another detective explained suddenly. The detective sighed.

"Looks like you got luck, DiMarco—but we're going to hold you here for further questioning until this little threat has passed," the detective stated.

"Little threat? Do you even know what the Joker is capable of?" I asked, incredulous, "if he's threatened to blow up Gotham General—he'll do it—and he'll take Harvey Dent while he's at it,"

"Do you know this for a fact?" he asked.

"No—but from interviewing him I can just—"

"No thanks—only facts are welcome here," he responded.

"I thought in a police department, any bit of information is useful when doing an investigation, detective," I retaliated.

"This questioning is done for now, Miss DiMarco. I won't be involved in your assassin's tango with the Joker," he spat back.

"Assassin's tango? You think I'm an assassin?" I laughed, "Hardly! I'm nothing more than a psychoanalyst at Wayne Enterprises who has had the misfortune of interviewing the Joker after he wrecked half of Gotham! But you can take that information and do what you will with it. Until you find anything more against me, I demand you release me from here and I suggest you get your act together in saving Gotham General," I scoffed.


	11. The Real Dark Knight

11. The Real Dark Knight

_Disclaimer: Thank you so much to my reviewers!! You're all amazing!! _

The only reason I was released from the GPD was because they had more important things to attend to than an alleged Joker suspect—Gotham General was rigged to blow and I knew that Harvey Dent wouldn't come out of it alive. The Joker would undoubtedly take Dent before the hospital blows, but only he knew when that would be. Till then, all I could do was wait, and anticipate, because there was no way I'd get anywhere near Gotham General—not with my name listed as a Joker suspect. They would think I was a part of the plan—if there even _was_ a plan! The Joker was up to no good, but by the time the hospital blew up, where would he be? Would he come seeking me out again, like he did the night before? Where would I be? Would I be locked up in protective custody? What would the Joker do then—if his dear, like-minded, match ended up behind bars. How would he know to get me? How would he know where I was? Would he even consider getting me? It's possible that if I got locked up, he wouldn't even come get me—it would be his chance to hightail it out of the Gotham. Maybe that was his plan all along—to get close to me, have me become a suspect, have me get caught, then leave town scott-free! There were too many options. In any event, I decided to steer clear of Gotham General for my own good. I wished I could just fly home for the rest of the week—to just get away from Gotham and its antics. It was driving me crazy. I was truly heading towards the deep end and for my own sanity, I needed to get out. But that would be exactly what the police would be looking for—if I left town, I'd have a hit on me back in Boston! There was no way out, but to stay right where I was.

I could do one of two things—stay at the GPD by request, or go home. I opted for the latter. I gathered my things and headed back to my apartment.

Once home, I cleaned up the living room, sat down and decided to finish up my Joker analysis. Just as I was really into my typing, I was disrupted.

"Why bother with that?" the Batman asked in his low voice. I looked up, startled. I saved my document and shut my laptop.

"Because I need to hand it into the GPD, remember? You asked me to do the analysis of the Joker—well, here it is," I responded, gesturing to my laptop.

"But why bother with an analysis of someone you're an accomplice to?" he asked.

"Who gave you that idea?! The GPD found his card in my trash at work today—but that's it!"

"And the recording of your interview—it's not what they expected the interview to be—it was…different," Batman responded.

"Well, I'm more curious as to how they even retrieved the recorder from my apartment when all my doors and windows were locked," I replied.

"Maybe the Joker gave it to them," Batman stated.

"No, he wouldn't do that—" I paused, realizing what I had just said. I just somewhat confirmed that the Joker had been in my apartment last night.

"The Joker's a mad dog—he'd do anything to anybody. He doesn't care for you, Giada," Batman stated.

"What makes you think I'd care for him or that he'd care for me?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I came here last night—I saw him. He was here, Giada. You can't lie to me about it," Batman confessed.

"But why were you spying on me? I thought you trusted me," I stated.

"I did trust you—and I wasn't spying on you…I had come to speak with you, but I saw the Joker was here. I figured it wasn't the best time," Batman explained.

"So because you saw the Joker with me last night, you automatically assume that he and I were conspiring? Conspiring to do what? Blow up Gotham General? It couldn't have been that I was cooking dinner and he just showed up by chance?" I asked, furiously, which was the truth.

"I saw you two sitting at that table conversing. I need to do what's best for Gotham and its people—even if it did so happen he showed up by chance," Batman responded.

"So you _do_ think I was conspiring with him," I confirmed.

"But you shouldn't trust him Giada. He's the one who turned you in this morning to the GPD. He's the one who turned in your tape recorder, so don't blame me for this. You only have the Joker to blame," Batman explained.

"I just don't see why he'd expose himself like that," I responded, my heart sinking into my stomach.

"I know you have feelings for the Joker, but it won't do you any good. I saw the way you looked at him through the window—and believe me when I saw this—he isn't capable of feeling the same for you—he isn't capable of feeling anything for anyone! The man's a crazed sociopath with no purpose but to kill. I want to help you and I want you to help Gotham, but by teaming up with him won't do any of us any good," Batman continued.

"I…I don't know what to say. How can I just…I don't have feelings for the Joker. He simply came to dinner last night—uninvited, and we got to talking—it's what I do with Bruce's employees—we talk," I stated, my voice shaking. I wanted to cry, but the anger rose up inside me for letting myself fall in love with the Joker. I truly started to believe him last night, but it was all gone—wasted and useless. I should have known better. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and the whole apartment shook. I fell to the ground and Batman covered me with himself. We waited like that for a few moments then we stood to our feet.

"Gotham General," I said, as I stared out the window.

"Giada, I know you have it in you to do good—don't fall—it's so easy to fall in with them, but you are strong. Don't be like me," he said and then rushed away. Watching the smoke rise into the air from the distance, my heart sank. The Joker blew up Gotham General—he had gotten to Harvey, I just knew it.

"The Joker wouldn't turn me in! I just know he wouldn't!" I shouted suddenly, though knowing Batman had fled from my apartment already. I fell to the floor and began sobbing.

"He wouldn't do it—I just know he wouldn't," I cried.

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"The Joker blew up Gotham General," Commissioner Gordon said to Batman.

"I know he did," Batman responded flatly.

"We can't find Harvey—he's gone," Gordon continued.

"They brought Giada DiMarco in for questioning today," Batman stated.

"Oh?" Gordon asked.

"Yes—she's appeared to be an accomplice to the Joker. I'd advise you to take her into protective custody as soon as possible," Batman continued.

"You think she's a threat?" Gordon asked.

"We have to get to her before the Joker does—no doubt she'll believe him over me," Batman continued.

"Believe him over you? In regards to what?" Gordon asked, confused.

"Her recorded interrogation with the Joker—I told her the Joker turned her in early this morning, but he didn't. It was me," Batman confessed.

"Well you did it to help Gotham—to make sure she doesn't take up sides with the Joker," Gordon stated.

"Of course," Batman replied and then disappeared before Gordon could look back at his masked friend.

"Oh Batman, is it really wise to be lying to the one person you need to get into the Joker's mind?" Gordon sighed.

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I sat in my apartment and finished up my analysis on the Joker. There. I placed the final period at the end of my final sentence. It was…done. I hooked up my printer and printed out the 17 page document—a complete behavioral, cognitive analysis of the Joker. I stapled the pages together and placed it into a folder. Well this was it—time to head down to the GPD and deliver to them their gift of the hour. I gathered my things and headed out of my apartment.

I walked briskly to the GPD but was intercepted by a dark stranger down an ally right around the corner from the police.

"What the fuck you do you want?" I shouted to the stranger as they covered my mouth with their hand and dragged me further down the ally.

"Sh sh sh sh, Giada, it's me," the Joker whispered into my ear. Still holding onto my tightly, he spun me around so I could see him. He was wearing nurse's clothing with a gait belt fastened about his waist. I wanted to giggle at him, knowing he had just blown up the hospital, but I was furious with him.

"Nice outfit," I commented.

"Where are you going? I was on my way to see you," he responded.

"I'm heading to the GPD—It's time they receive their gift of the hour," I said as I held up the manila folder.

"What's that?" he asked, trying to grab it from me.

"Uh uh, it's my psych analysis on you, sir," I replied, holding it away from him.

"Now why would you want to give them something like that? You know you're only writing the things they want to see—not what' you actually believe," he stated, pouting his lips.

"And why did you turn me in to them? So all of a sudden you feel it necessary to sell me out to the GPD? What the hell is your deal?" I loudly whispered to him.

"Me? I didn't do anything! I was…blowing up Gotham General…remember?" he asked, gesturing to his clothing.

"Right—but you turned in my recorder early this morning—I _did_ wake up _alone_ this morning, by the way," I sneered at him.

"Sorry! I had a hospital to rig! It's not easy you know, rigging a hospital the size of…well…Gotham General!" he exclaimed, waving his hands around.

"So you didn't turn in the recorder to the GPD this morning before you rigged the hospital?" I asked.

"Why would I waste my time turning in something as private as that conversation on the day I decided to blow up Gotham General? Why would I waste my time trying to get you to join me only to turn you in? There's just no sense in that, Giada," he responded, raising his eyebrows.

I let out a sigh of frustration.

"Well I don't know who did then," I replied.

"Wait—the GPD heard that interview?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Yes! They came and escorted me out of work today and brought me to the GPD for questioning. They have their eye on me as your accomplice!" I exclaimed.

"Sh sh sh," he held up his finger to my lips, "It wasn't me, I can assure you on that,"

"Well then who was it?" I asked, hushed by firmly.

"…It was the Batman," the Joker stated finally.

"Batman? Why would he…wait, how could he have…what?!" I shrieked.

"Exactly," the Joker responded with a grin, "that's right—get mad at the Batman, not the Joker,"

"You don't even know if it was really the Batman who turned me in!" I exclaimed.

"Well, it makes the most sense—he doesn't want you to be allied with me, so while I'm rigging said Gotham Hospital, you'd be an easy target. Since you're helping them anyway with your…little…analysis on my psychosis, it would make sense that they'd do anything to turn you against me," the Joker stated.

"You're insane," I said flatly, "I need to go give this to them or they'll never let me off the hook," I went to turn around but he stopped me.

"I'm only as insane as you are, Giada, dear. You can turn that analysis in to the GPD, but they will still hunt you—you'll never be off the hook—not as long as Batman believes you're joined with me," the Joker coaxed.

"Well, I might as well give it a try—you know, there are some people I can put my hopes in," I replied.

"I'll be on the look out for you when they decide to lock you up anyway," the Joker called after me as I walked away and around the corner.


	12. Disturbia

12. Disturbia

_He's just a crazy, sociopath, clown_, I thought as I walked around the corner and into the GPD. Maybe I should have written that as my entire analysis.

"I have your analysis on the Joker," I said flatly as I dropped the folder onto Gordon's desk. He just glanced up at me, not knowing what to say.

"Thank you, but we're currently searching for Harvey Dent," Gordon replied.

"Well, I'm sure once you read my analysis, you'll be able to figure out where he is and what he's up to," I responded, narrowing my eyes.

"Thank you Miss DiMarco—it'll be taken into consideration. But for now, would you mind answering a few more questions regarding the Joker? If you fail to comply, we're going to have to put you into protected custody until you meet with an attorney," Gordon explained further.

"What? I told that other detective everything I know about the Joker. Here's the analysis! My work with the Joker is done—_and_ my work for you people. I'm giving Mr. Wayne my resignation tomorrow—I'm going back to Boston as soon as possible," I explained, hurt by the Commissioner's statements.

"I understand you're hurt by all of this, but it's for the safety of Gotham's people that you attend to further questioning on the matter. The Joker is out there blowing up our city and so far you're the only other person in Gotham who has been reported being seen with him in the past 48 hours," Gordon explained.

"Really? So what about Harvey Dent? Don't you people think that the Joker was with Harvey Dent? I mean, that only makes the most sense," I attacked back, my anger beginning to flare.

"No need to get hostile, Miss DiMarco. The Batman will take care of it," he replied.

"The Batman, huh? Tell me, Commissioner, can the Batman give you a full 17 page analysis on the Joker's behavioral and cognitive capabilities? Let me tell you something, Commissioner, I have never been so insulted in my as to have been accused of being a cohort to a sociopathic clown. I've been accused of many things in my life, but never this—especially when I was asked by you people to assist you on this project by providing you with a specialists perspective—to give you all insight into how his mind works—and this is how you re-pay me? By accusing me of joining sides with the Joker? I have the right mind to take the analysis and burn it where Rachel Dawes burned last night!" I shouted.

"Takes her into protective custody," Gordon said to the officer behind him.

"No! Don't you touch me! I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who gave you that recorder, Commissioner," I said, as the officer handcuffed my hands.

Gordon remained silent.

"I'll get the Batman in on this—he'll talk some sense into you people! He'll tell me the truth!" I shouted as the officer shoved me down the hall.

"Batman was the one who turned in your recorder tape," Gordon finally said, lowering his eyes. My heart sank.

"What? Let go of me, you fool!" I screamed at the officer and ran back out to Gordon's desk.

"Batman turned you in," Gordon repeated himself.

"Batman did? But why? How?" I asked, feeling my hands begin to go numb from shock.

"He had reason to believe you were in cahoots with the Joker," Gordon replied.

"After he had asked me to write up this fucking analysis?! What does he take me for?! Some sociopathic buffoon like the Joker?!" I shrieked, my Sicilian blood at full boiling point. "I can't believe the likes of your people!"

"Detective, take her in for questioning," Gordon solemnly said.

"I said don't touch me! You lay a hand on me and I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what? Get the Joker to blow up the GPD?" the detective asked, shoving me down the hall and into another interrogation room.

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Outside of the GPD, the Joker heard the whole commotion inside. Giggling to himself, he placed the wig on his head from earlier that day and covered up his face with the surgical mask. He removed his large purple jacket and hid it behind a dumpster and walked around the corner and right into the GPD.

"Good evening, Commissioner Gordon," he said in a high voice.

"Good evening, miss. What can I do for you?" Gordon asked, squinting his eyes a bit at the nurse before him.

"I believe you have a patient from Gotham General here by mistake," he explained, taking a seat and crossing his legs.

"Impossible—everyone from Gotham General has been bused to the sister hospital in the next town over," Gordon replied.

"Even Harvey Dent? I was his nurse—I have reason to believe my patient is missing. Commissioner, can you assure me that Harvey Dent made it to the other hospital?" the Joker asked with concern.

"Well, of that I am not sure, miss. In fact, it has been reported that he is missing at the moment—"

"Oh this is dreadful! That poor mans needs medicine! He is in pain!" the Joker exclaimed in agony.

"Right, I understand that, but we are doing everything possible to find Harvey Dent that is possible right now," Gordon assured him.

Do you have every detective in the city looking for that poor man?" he continued, knowing that I was being interrogated by a detective.

"Just about—"

"I think every detective needs to be out searching for that poor man. He was such a good man!" the Joker exclaimed.

"I'll see what we can do—"

"That's not good enough, Commissioner! Harvey Dent is Gotham's White Knight, and he deserves the best from his GPD," the Joker instigated further.

"You're absolutely right, ma'am. Let me go get Detective Stephens," Gordon got up from his chair and walked into the interrogation room and retrieved the detective. I was then led into a jail cell and locked up. Gordon brought the detective out to the nurse.

"Good evening, ma'am. We're doing everything in our power to find Harvey Dent's whereabouts. As soon as we find him, we'll let you know," Detective Stephens said.

"Well the Commissioner said he would send out every single detective in town to find him. It's only fair that Harvey Dent receives the best search warrant this city can offer," the Joker replied.

"Indeed. And I agree, Commissioner. Shall we rally a car of who's left?" Detective Stephens asked.

"I'll send Ramirez, and I'll head out with you, detective. Officer Brooks will remain here with Lieutenant Grove to oversee the cells," Gordon stated finally.

"Oh thank you gentlemen so much! I just know that with more people searching, you'll find Harvey in no time! He really needs medical attention as soon as possible," the Joker explained.

"Thank you for your concern, miss. Have a nice evening," Gordon said as he grabbed his jacket and left the station with Stephens. The Joker turned to leave behind Gordon and Stephens, but as he saw them get into the cars, he turned back around and went back into the station.

"Miss, you really must leave the station—" the Joker took out his gun and shot the officer and Lieutenant with two quick shots. He then took the officer's keys and ran to the jail cell that I was sitting in.

"What a performance! You deserve an academy award for that one!" I laughed nervously as he unlocked the jail cell.

"So…are you going to join me…or what?" he asked, holding out his hand to me through the cell before he unlocked the cell. I paused a moment, "come on, hurry! We haven't got much time," I looked at his hand and with that, I decided to take it. He hoisted me up to my feet, unlocked the door of the cell and let me out.

"Now where do we go?" I asked.

"This way," he said as we shuffled out of the GPD. On my way out, I grabbed the analysis from Gordon's desk. There was no way he was going to get the privilege to read such a statement.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I followed him behind the GPD. He grabbed his purple jacket and kept walking down the ally.

"This way—follow me, but be quick," he said as he grabbed me by the wrist. I felt the folder cut into his arm and smirked underneath his surgical mask. "I see you didn't want them to read it after all,"

"Why should they? They think they can use me for my education and then throw me in jail? I don't think so," I replied as I followed him down the long, darkening ally. As we ventured further and further down the ally, deeper into the heart of downtown Gotham, I could feel myself entering disturbia. We stopped for a moment and the Joker pulled off his mask and wig, and we kept on journeying down the ally. It was official—I had joined the Joker.

We finally made it to a building. The Joker jumped up to the fire escape, bent over and gave me his hand again to help hoist me up. I grabbed his hand and hoisted up to his level. Up and up and up we went until we reached the roof of the building. Much like I lived on the top floor of my building, I guess so did the Joker. When we could go no higher, he kicked in the window with his boot and swung into the apartment. Holding out his hand once more to help me, I grabbed it and jumped into the apartment.

All was dark inside. He slammed the window shut and turned on a few lights, but only long enough to find his candles. He lit them and then immediately turned off the lights. I felt like I was Christine inside the Phantom's labyrinth.

"We have food here—" he said as he gestured to the cabinets in the room we started in, and he led me through a small hallway and into the main room of the apartment, "to your left is a bathroom, over there is a bedroom, and this—well this is my humble abode," he giggled, "welcome!"

"Thanks, I take it you are expecting me to spend my time here instead of my place?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, of course not. This is disturbia—I wouldn't expect you to want to be here all the time," he replied, kick off his shoes. Well, he was right—it certainly was disturbia. The apartment building itself was very old—built in probably the late 1800s. The wallpaper on the walls was faded and peeling at the edges. Some spots of wallpaper were missing all together. The floors were old hardwood floors, but the Joker haphazardly threw some 'permanently borrowed' oriental rugs down on them. The rugs looked just as old as the wallpaper on the walls.

"Make yourself at home…Giiiiiiiada! Mi casa es su casa!" he said as he went into the bedroom to change out of the nurses' scrubs.

"That's Spanish, not Italian!" I shouted after him "dumbass," I muttered as I walked around the main living room area at some of the strange artifacts he had. He had an enormous bookcase with more books on it than I would have guessed for a man of his…psychological capabilities. But then again, I would have pegged him a genius anyway. I picked up one of the books and held it in my hands. It was a very old book. I opened it and two faded pictures fell from it. I knelt down and picked them up. One was a family—a mother, a father, and three children—two boys and a girl. I looked at the back, it read: _Napiers, 1986, Melinda 4, Jack 7, Edward 10_. The ink was faded considerably. I then looked at the other photo. It was a military photo of Jack Napier. So he was telling the truth about his scars. My heart fluttered at the image of the Joker in his uniform. No scars—just smooth, tanned skin—and dark eyes.

"Oh so you found them! You _are_ good!" he exclaimed as he emerged from the bedroom fully clothed in his blue shirt, green vest, tie and purple pants. There he was—in his Joker attire, face paint and all. But there he was, in the photo in my hand, dressed in soldier garb.

"You were a soldier?" I asked, handing him the picture.

"You danced at the Jokers Wild?" he asked in response, handing me a tube of white face paint.

"Touché. I guess our pasts don't really matter, do they?" I responded, taking the picture back from him and looking at it.

"Does it make you sad to know that's how I used to look, Giada?" he asked.

"No—it doesn't. Does it make you sad to know that I used to dance at a strip club?" I asked, "and painted my face the way you do," as I held up the tube of face paint.

"No, because I know you don't forget those kinds of skills," he responded with a smirk and a wink. I let out a laugh as I put the pictures back into the book.

"Likewise for you, I'm sure," I responded, taking one last glance at the military photo before I shut the book and put it away back on his shelf.

"We can re-live the past if we want, Giada," he said suddenly, glancing down at the face paint in my hand, "I mean, I'm perfectly content with the present I've created for myself—the past is well in the past—but, if you want, feel free to re-live your past,"

"Why would I want to do that?" I asked, handing him back the tube of white face paint.

"Because I want you to," he replied, "it's the only way you can truly enter disturbia,"


	13. Jokers Wild

13. Jokers Wild

_Disclaimer: the lyrics at the beginning are Rihanna's lyrics to Disturbia. I think they fit this chapter as well as the previous chapter very well. They basically describe the Joker/Giada relationship. And another huge thanks to my reviewers!! You all rock!! PS…this is another one of those x-rated chapters—so beware and enjoy!_

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you,_

_It can creep up inside you and consume you,_

_A disease of the mind, it can control you,_

_It's to close for comfort_

_Put on your break lights__, we're in the city of wonder  
Ain't gonna play nice  
Watch out you might just go under  
Better think twice  
Your train of thought will be altered, so if you must falter be wise  
Your mind is in disturbia  
It's like the darkness is the light  
Disturbia  
Am I scaring you tonight?  
Your mind is in disturbia  
Ain't used to what you like  
Disturbia_

"Disturbia?" I asked. I had thought about him living in a 'disturbia' but I hadn't thought that he too thought of such a place—such an altered state of mind and being.

"It crept up…and consumed me, Giada…now it will do the same for you—don't be nervous—you look nervous. I promise you'll enjoy it," he said as he opened the white tube of face paint.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, as my heart began to race inside my chest. He stood to his feet and helped me up to my feet. He then led me into the bedroom and closed the door behind us. He backed me up to his bed and when I could walk no further back, I fell back onto his bed. He crawled on top of me and licked my ear all the way down to my neck. He then kissed and licked and sucked on my neck all the way up to my lips. As he kissed me, I didn't even notice that he was slowly putting face paint onto his fingers.

"Take my hand and paint your face with it," he said finally. I grabbed onto his right hand and smeared the paint onto my face. He leaned back down and kissed my lips as he continued to rub the white face paint more evenly over my face.

"How does it look?" I asked him finally.

"We're not done yet. It's your turn—paint your face…like you used to," he gestured to an array of face paints he had lined up on a dresser. He got off me and I sat up. I then got off the bed and gazed into the mirror with my white face. I glanced back at him. He was kneeling still on the bed, watching me.

"Do you want to watch? Or have it be a surprise?" I asked.

"Surprise me," he said as he got off the bed and left the room. I gazed down at his face paints. Where to start? How _did_ I used to paint my face? The white face as a base…but how did I paint my eyes? I took the black and lined my eyelids and then extended the lines outward to my temples. I then joined the line downwards to a shorter black line from my bottom lids. Then, using his red for my lips, I under exaggerated my lips by painting them narrowly, like a Geisha. That looked about right to the way I used to paint my face. Oh…and one more thing—the purple and green dots that dotted just above my eyebrows and up along my cheekbone. Almost forgot those.

Looking at myself in the mirror gave me a slight surge of excitement. Giada was underneath that face paint. Jade had resurfaced for the first time in years, but this time, she was no longer a cocaine addict. She was a smart, clean and intelligent young woman. I guess I had always been afraid of Jade, what she might do if she ever re-surfaced. I then got an idea. I searched through the Joker's clothing drawers for more exiting things to wear. I found a couple of green, purple and yellow ties. I tied one of them around my neck and found a purple button down shirt. I buttoned two buttons and then tied up the rest so to show my belly. I took off my pants and put on a pair of his crazy argyle socks. They went all the way up to my knees—perfect! I then put on a pair of his pants and looped a tie through the belt holes and tied them up. He would either love this idea or hate it. I decided it was worth it enough to take the chance. I looked like a deranged clown stripper. I opened the door but stayed out of view.

"Ohhhhh Jooooker!! I'm ready for you," I announced to him from a sitting position on the bed. He walked into the room and nearly died from laughter. "Welcome to disturbia, care to join me?" I asked as I patted the spot next to me on the bed.

"Disturbia huh? I could have sworn this was the Jokers Wild!" he giggled as he jumped onto the bed. I pushed him up so he was sitting against the headboard and I crawled on top of him so that I was straddling him—a rather familiar position for us.

"Oh Giada, this is too much fun!" he exclaimed as I licked his neck all the way up to his ear.

"Do you have a radio…of the sorts?" I asked.

"Over there," he pointed to a table in the corner. I quickly hopped off him and turned the radio on and tuned in to a good radio station.

"Now, for the Jokers Wild," I said as I grabbed him and sat him down in a wooden chair that was next to the bed. I loosened up my tie around my neck as I started to dance for him. Jade was back and ready for some action. The best part about doing a strip tease for the Joker was making sure he kept his hands off. As each piece of clothing came off of me, I could see his eyes follow the article of clothing until it hit the flood, then his eyes went right back to me. The key was to drive him crazy to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. When I took off the pants, he was elated to see that I was wearing his socks as knee socks. It was at that point when he got up from the chair and pushed me backwards onto the bed and crawled on top of me.

"I take it you liked that," I stated as he kissed my neck feverishly. My hands soon gravitated to his head as I grabbed onto his hair. Suddenly, he grabbed me by the wrists rather forcefully and pinned them to the bed above my head.

"Oh hell no," I breathed as I forced myself from his grasp and pushed him off me so I could have my way with him.

"What is this?" he asked with a sly grin as I sat on top of him, loosening the tie around my neck and then removing it entirely. I reached down to the floor and grabbed the tie that had been around the pants I worn for the strip tease.

"Don't worry—this will only take a minute," I replied with a seductive grin. I grabbed his right wrist and wrapped the tie around it and then tied it to the headboard. I glanced up at his wrist and then back at me, "What the matter, Joker? You look…nervous," I said as I licked the ear on his other side as I tied his left wrist to the bed with the second tie.

Once he was tied up, I took it upon myself to unbutton his vest, shirt, and remove his tie. I then slowly unbuttoned the shirt of his I was wearing and tossed it to the ground. I then took the liberty of running my hands all over his body while I kissed and licked his chest…and then all…the…way…down. I could tell from more than one way that he was enjoying himself once I reached his pelvic region—if you know what I mean! The Joker's 'sneak attack', if you will, was bulging and ready for some action. I lightly ran my hand over the bulge in his pants, and glancing up slightly, I noticed him let out a sigh of pleasure. I kept teasing him outside of his pants until he was squirming on the bed and breathing heavily. I tugged at his purple pants until the bones of his hips were showing so I could kiss him and lick him while I unbuttoned his pants.

Without him even noticing, I had slid his pants all the way off of him and crawled on top of him. I pressed myself against him so he could feel me on him and he let out a sigh. I leaned over him and began kissing and biting his lips. He let his hips rise and fall with mine while he let me devour his mouth. I finally decided to move down and remove his boxer briefs (Yes!) and took him entirely into my mouth. He let out a pleasurable moan as I played with him in my mouth. Having him tied up during all of this would put him exactly the right kind of wild mood that I wanted him in, so I removed my underwear and began sucking on his ear lobe as I untied him from the bed. He immediately took charge and flipped over me and penetrated me from behind. He groaned in delight as he grabbed my hair and pulled it forcefully. I let released a scream of pleasure. He kept a tight hold of my hair as he fucked me from behind. Then, he pulled out and pulled me on top of him so I could ride him cowgirl style.

"Hit me," he breathed heavily. I slapped him across the face and he laughed as I slapped him again. He then flipped me over onto my back. I reached up and grabbed his hair and pulled it so that he was forced to kiss me. Sweat trickled down his temples, leaving a skin colored stain on his white face. He bit his lip in ecstasy as he fucked me hard. I screamed out in pleasure as the Joker and I engaged in the kinkiest and wildest sex I had ever experienced. Little did I know that this would be nothing compared to the nights down the road as our relationship progressed—when our sex would be dark, sadistic, and terrifyingly pleasurable. It was the Jokers Wild.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That night, I did not _once_ think about how a sociopathic murderer was violently fucking me. It had been nothing like anything I'd ever sexually experienced before—and it had been nothing at all like our first time back in my apartment. Something about being behind the painted face, wearing his clothing and in the land of disturbia brought out a sadistic part of me that I know he enjoyed—a part of me that I am not even sure _he_ knew was there. Then again, he knew me better than I knew myself. He probably knew all along that I would enjoy wild and kinky sex. He probably knew I would get off from slapping him and being spanked in return. I only wondered where these sex-capades would take us in the future? Was I headed down a road that included chains, ropes, whips and candle wax? Part of me hoped not! Part of me did.

My compassion for the Joker was beyond the S&M sex—I knew that I was in love with him, but I was not sure that _he_ knew I was in love with him. He had to have had a clue of some kind, which was why I think we made love that night—after our Jokers Wild sex, after we both cooled down and slept for a couple of hours, I was woken up by him kissing my back, which soon escalated into another round of sex—but not the rough kind—the kind we had back in my apartment. That made me glad. Maybe he _was_ capable of caring about someone or something? I guess I'd never really know, because he was, after all, the Joker.

I just knew that the next day would come and he'd be off again, wreaking havoc upon Gotham City and Batman. But would be ask me to join him this time? Would he ask me to be his partner in crime? He said he didn't work with anybody else, except one other person if that person would join him. I knew that person was me, but I didn't know if he would actually ask me to join him in blowing up Gotham City. If he did ask me, would I do it? Would I join him in destroying a city for the mere sake of sending a message? Could I adopt that sociopath mentality that he so closely held on to? I didn't know. I guess it was going to be the Joker's wild card—or rather, _my_ wild card—the Jokers Wild.


	14. Waltz of Chaos

14. A Waltz of Chaos

_Disclaimer: I love love love love love all of you reviewers!! You are simply the best!! _

"Goooooood morning….sunshine!" the Joker jumped onto the bed to wake me up. I rolled over and was blinded by the sun shining in through the window. Squinting my eyes and place my hand over my eyes, I groaned and rolled back over.

"What time is it?" I managed force out of my dry and cracking throat. I hated speaking after first waking up! I somehow, over the years, managed to sound like a drag queen.

"Time for a trip to obtain…things," he responded with a grin and a gesture of his hand as though motioning out into the distance to where theses 'things' were. He was already dressed, including his purple overcoat, face freshly painted. Still squinting, I sat up and tilted my head. Was this guy for real? The sun must have literally just come up and here he was, dressed to the nines at the ass crack of dawn to get 'things'.

"Huh? Things? What kinds of things?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and releasing a yawn.

"Things…that we need to help change Gotham…forever!" he exclaimed with a surge of energy.

"Right—but what? Explosives? Gasoline? I mean, you're pretty damn good at blowing things up," I replied, finally awake.

"It all depends on what's there—no need to plan what things I need—it's all in what's already there," he grinned.

"So you're going out at the ass crack of dawn to get things you don't even know?" I asked, a bit irritated.

"Precisely," he responded, "Now get up—get dressed! You're coming with me. You've got a thing or two to learn in rigging buildings and…boats," he explained as he put out his hand for me to take.

"Rigging buildings and ships, huh?" I asked, as I took his hand and hopped off the bed.

"I have ideas, Giada—but not plans," the Joker responded finally. He just loves building up the mystery!

"You're a beautiful, fucked up man," I said, "You know that?"

"No more than you, my dear," he gestured to the bathroom. I just shook my head and closed the door behind me. I turned on the water and glanced around the bathroom as I waited for it to heat up. I was in the Joker's bathroom—the most personal place in any person's home. This is where he showers, washes off his face paint, takes a shit. I laughed aloud to myself at the thought of the Joker having to drop a deuce.

"Giggling all by yourself, Giada? You're crazier than I thought," the Joker called to me from the other side of the door.

"Sorry! Just thinking about you taking a dump!" I called back. I doubted he'd know how to respond to _that_! Man, where _did_ my inhibitions run off to? Not bothering to wait for his reply, I jumped into the shower.

"Giada, the things _you_ think about are _crazier_ than the things _I_ think about!" the Joker exclaimed suddenly as he burst through the door. Taken by surprise at his unexpected entrance, I shrieked.

"You didn't _really_ think I'd just sit outside the door after hearing a comment like that, did you?" he asked as he swung the shower curtain open.

"What are you doing?!" I shouted, "I'm trying to shower!"

"And I figured you could use some company," he replied as he stepped into the shower. He was still fully clothed.

"Uh, you're getting your suit all wet!" I exclaimed as I ripped the jacket off of him and threw it onto the floor.

"See? Now you appreciate my company," he snickered as he grabbed me around the waist and kissed my neck.

"See, I thought the purpose of a shower was to get clean and to do that by being unclothed," I responded as I pushed him off of me.

"Well then it looks like you've got a bit of catching up to do—I've got you unclothed already, but here I am…still…in…mine," he responded.

"Don't we have explosives to buy?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Buy? Who said we were buying anything? I said we have things to get. There was no 'buy' in that statement," he responded.

"Right—so was it not you who woke me up to go get these things with you? Was it not your who told me to get ready so we could get out and get these 'things'?" I asked, just wanting to finish my shower.

"You're really no fun this early in the morning," he stated flatly. I let out a sigh of frustration and then ripped his vest, tie and shirt from his body, followed by his shoes, socks and purple striped pants.

"There! Are you happy now? We're in a tie—both of us are unclothed," I said, folding my arms across my chest and raising my eyebrows.

"Ah, now there's a bit of fun. We stop here then—in a tie. To be continued, then!" he giggled as he jumped from the shower and took his clothes from the floor and left the bathroom. That was it? He just wanted me to unclothe him in the shower? He didn't want sex or anything? I scratched my head in thought, shut the curtain again and finished up my shower. This man was more perplexing than I had anticipated.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a damp towel about me. This was undoubtedly the towel he had used earlier this morning before waking me. I opened the door and peered out before venturing into the hallway.

"Finally you're done! This way, Giada, dear!" he stated as he motioned for me to join him in the bedroom.

"Do you have a hairbrush or something?" I asked, trying to comb my fingers through my wet curling hair.

"Hairbrush? Does it look like I use one of those?" he asked as he brushed his wavy hair from his face. Point well taken. "Here, try this," he said as he threw some clothing at me.

"You want me to wear your clothing?" I asked, holding the clothes with one hand and the towel with my other hand.

"Well, from the looks oft things, the rest of your clothing is at your place of residence," he stated, glancing about the room, "but if you _really_ insist, having you naked all day wouldn't really be such a bad thing either,"

"Fine," I responded, then paused as I looked hard at him. He was back in his traditional Joker clothes—but they were completely dry.

"What? Is there something on my face?" he asked, grinning at his question.

"Huh? Oh no—well I mean yes—your face paint…but…your clothes—they're dry," I stated curiously.

"Indeed they are," he responded, still grinning.

"I won't ask," I said finally as I turned to leave and change in his bathroom. The clothes he gave me were interesting—black and red, not purple and green. His clothing, however, did not fit me, so I decided to just wear what I had worn the day before (gross I know, but it really didn't matter at this point).

"Didn't fit, I see," he said as I came out wearing my clothes from yesterday.

"No, but I have an idea about fixing these so they might," I responded as I placed the clothing on the bed.

"Very well, then! This way," he said as he stood to his feet. I followed him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

We wandered through back allies for what felt like hours, grabbing things here and there. He would tell me what to grab and I would put it into a large duffle bag he gave me.

"Now—to the docks," he said with a smirk.

"The docks? What's down there?" I asked, nearly dragging the heavy duffle.

"Boats," he stated as we walked through all of the back allies until we finally reached the waterfront. I followed him down to the boats that were docked.

"What are we doing on the boats?" I asked, "Rigging them to blow?" I asked with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Precisely," he responded.

"Wait, what?! You don't mean—"

"These two ferry boats," he explained.

"But how? Won't anybody notice?"

"People are ignorant, Giada. They don't see things that are right under their noses. The best place to get away with any kind of chaos is right out in the open—under the noses of the GPD—it's always the last place they'd assume anything would happen," he responded as we walked right out to the ferries.

"So what are you planning on doing with the ferries?" I asked, looking around. No one was around. I was shocked.

"These ferries won't be open to the public until tonight," he explained, "not until my announcement goes public,"

"What announcement?" I asked.

"That I've taken over Gotham City and anyone left in the city will play by my rules," he responded.

"When did you make that statement?" I asked, incredulously.

"After we rig these ferries," he replied as he jumped over onto the landing dock. I slid down after him, carrying the heavy duffle bag. He then kicked the side door open and we both slipped onto the ferry. He led me down into the bottom most part of the ship.

"Perfect," he said as he observed all of the barrels of oil.

"How did these get here?" I asked, shocked by the tons of barrels.

"People work for me, Giada—but I don't work with them. You see, you're the only person I could have trusted to join me in rigging these ferries,"

"But who would load a ferry boat with oil drums and not expect you to blow it up? Who will keep this a secret?" I exclaimed, letting go of the duffle bag.

"People keep secrets when they're dead, Giada," he responded, grinning. My heart was pounding inside my chest. This would be it—he would surely kill me after this. All was silent, except the pounding inside my chest. I could have sworn he could hear it—sense my fear.

"What's wrong, Giada? You look nervous. I thought we were past this," he said as he walked closer to me. I shriveled back inside myself as he approached and tilted my head away from him as he touched my face with his gloved hand.

"I am an agent of chaos, Giada—and so are you," he said, nearly directly into my face. I kept pushed my head further back from him.

"Have I made the _wrong_ decision in taking you with me? I like to think that my intuition is right about you, Giada—that I won't have to kill you when this is over—that you'll still be with me. I could sense the longing and desperation in his voice behind the threat. He didn't want to lose me. And I didn't want to lose him—or die, for that matter. But there I was, ready to rig a couple of ferries to blow this evening. I was in too deep. There was no way out.

"Come, Giada—say something. Don't make me use this," he said as he cocked his gun and held it to my head. "I like you the best—of them all, I'd kill you last," he snickered. Trembling, I forced myself to turn my head and face him. I could feel the tears of fear welling up inside my eyes, but I would never let him see them. I would not let him see me cower before him in this agonizing fear. But he knew it.

He immediately lowered his gun and placed it back inside his jacket and took me into his arms. I was breathing heavily as he held tightly onto me. Once I finally regained composure, I pushed him away from me and grabbed the gun from his jacket pocket, cocked it and pointed it at him.

"If you ever point that gun at me again, you won't live to see tomorrow," I sneered, my heart still racing a million miles a minute. He just laughed as he raised both of his hands into the air.

"What?! You don't fucking believe me?" I exclaimed as I pointed the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The Joker jumped at the gunshot and then grabbed my arm and pulled the gun away from me.

"Are you fucking crazy? Don't shoot that thing off in here—not with all the oil drums!" he exclaimed.

"I was proving a point," I stated firmly.

"Point taken," he responded as he placed the gun back into his jacket. "So I take it you'll help me rig these ship then,"

"I've got no other choice, do I?" I asked.

"I'll give you one more choice—one more chance to back down from joining me. You've helped me once and now I've helped you once. We're even—in another tie, as it were. But you look nervous—uncertain about this. I'll give you one more chance. You can join me, here, or walk out of this ferry and back to your apartment. Just know, Giada, that if you chose the latter, they will hunt you and when they find you, you'll have no other options. I know how much you enjoy our time together, and if you chose to join me, that time will never end," he explained with a sadistic smile. "You can take this opportunity now and chose, Giada. Whatever you chose will not change how I personally view you—it will not change my opinions of you and nor will it change how I see us,"

"How _do_ you see us?" I asked finally.

"Well, if you chose to not walk off this ferry, I see us working together, using our…minds—conspiring, living…causing chaos…Giada, you see…in just the way that Batman completes my existence…so do you. I've waited a long many years to find such a person that I could call 'a match', and well…you're it, Giada. You're my soul mate,"

I knew by that statement, he didn't mean "marry me" or "I love you" or that I was his romantic "soul mate" partner. He was deranged and obsessed by me. But I was deranged and obsessed by him. That was our relationship—we were obsessed with each other's existence and I knew right then and there that I couldn't walk off that ship. He was, unfortunately, my soul mate as well and we were destined to do this waltz for the rest of our lives.


	15. The Trapped and the Deranged

15. The Trapped and the Deranged

_Disclaimer: A HUGE THANKS to all my reviewers!! Your reviews are just amazing and I am so glad you are enjoying this story just as much I am enjoying writing it!! Hugs to all!!_

Inside, my heart was breaking, for I was in love with the Joker, and there he stood, telling me that I was his soul mate and I very well knew he meant it entirely differently. I wanted to leave, to prove to him that my love for him was real—was beyond the things he had proposed to me, but I knew I couldn't. Despite what he said about his opinions of me not changing whether I left or not, I knew I couldn't and wouldn't leave him. I was trapped, but just as much as I was trapped by him, he was trapped by me.

It was like a disturbed version of Beauty and the Beast—would the beast ever learn to love? Except my life was far from a fairytale—I was living in a self-inflicted hell—a life and situation that _I_ chose for myself. In that moment I took his hand, I knew that I was no longer capable of leaving him or the life I had now opted for. There would only be pain, longing and chaos—there would be no surprises. Only surprises of chaos and destruction. I guess that's what you have to look forward to when you fall in love with a sociopath, mass murdering clown.

"Very good now, Giada…dear. Let's rig this ferry so we won't…miss… the fireworks later," he stated with a grin. I nodded and turned away from him for a moment, then I turned back to him, raised my hand and punched him across the face as hard as I could. He grunted at the blow and held the side of his face that I hit. He stared at me through wide, dark eyes.

"Just because I chose to join you doesn't mean that killing thousands of innocent civilians sits well with me," I spat at him, cracked my knuckles from the fist that met his face and turned back away from him and opened the duffle bag.

"See, Giada? I always knew you had it in you," he laughed as he kicked the duffle from my grasp.

"Had what in me? The ability to beat the shit out of you?" I asked.

"Exactly! The ability to get so angry with what's been given to you—the choices you had to make based on what others provided—the ability to take those choices and run with them—turn those choices in anger…and in turn…chaos—chaos to redeem yourself from the world that's punished you…punished for the decisions you made but were not followed through because of a wrong turn of events. There are no plans, Giada—only choices. We make due with the choices we are left to make," he stated as he knelt down to my level.

I saw it in his eyes in that moment as to what he was talking about—his experience in the war. He had made the decision to go to the war, but it had turned horribly wrong for him. He had to make decisions that he had never planned on making based on the choices he was given by others. He put me in an analogous situation to the one he was in—and I reacted in the same manner he did. I acted out violently. I turned to unplanned chaos in shooting that gun and then punching him for making me make a choice in which I had really no control over. He was right. I _was_ just like him.

"Now how about we rig these ferries," he said as he stood and held out his hand for a final time. I immediately took his hand and stood to my feet. He then took me in close to him and held onto me firmly, "And don't ever punch me again unless I instruct you to do so," he whispered through clenched teeth into my ear. I ripped myself from his grasp to see that he was smirking at me.

"Yes sir," I smiled and saluted him in a mockery of his past. I could be just as heartless as he if he wanted me to be. All he had to do was push the right buttons. Ignoring my hurtful gesture, he knelt down and removed some things that were in the duffle bag. For the first time since I'd known the Joker, he didn't have anything to say to me in retaliation. I think I hit a serious nerve. I immediate felt remorse for hurting him with what was such a painful and life changing experience. I knelt down beside him in an effort to build up my rapport with him.

"So what now?" I asked.

"We connect these," he showed me some bizarre device, "with these," he showed me another. "Then, we program it into this detonator here that I built," he explained.

"You built these?" I asked, incredulous at the engineering work displayed in the homemade detonators. Most people make homemade pies—not the Joker—he makes homemade detonators to blow up buildings and ferries.

"Yes, I built these. Much to your surprise, I assume, I was in the military as an engineer," he said, with a salute to me as he stood to his feet. Touché. He got me back on that one. I knew he'd put me in my place. Well there it was—he really was brilliant—a genius. Here was a man whose life plan had gone seriously wrong—altered for reasons projected on him by others. Here was a man who was so brilliant that he was a military engineer. It's no wonder he knows so much about rigging buildings to blow! It was what he did—when it was an 'acceptable' thing to do because it was war and not just an expression of unwarranted chaos. Here was a very seriously misunderstood and abused young man—abused by others for his intelligence and skill.

He handed me the detonator and commenced to explain how it works. He explained it with such full detail but not a lot of technical terms so to not confuse me. I had no words to offer him. I was stunned. He instructed me and helped me each step of the way as we rigged the ferry and programmed the explosion time into the detonator.

It was off to the next ship. We repeated the same process until the second ferry was rigged and programmed to blow at precisely 12:00 midnight. A third detonator was also programmed to blow up both ferries, in case the other two detonators failed to work.

We left the waterfront and the Joker turned to me with a crooked grin, "I have a public announcement to make. Feel free to take the rest of today off,"

"Okay, but when should I meet up with you again? When are you planning on meeting Batman? I can help you,"

"This is something I don't need you for. This is just me…and the Batman," the Joker stated with a crazed grin.

"If you don't need my help, then why did you ask me to join you?" I asked, deflated by this letdown.

"I need you in my life just the same. I need your help just as I need to fight the Batman. You don't need to fight the Batman. _I_ need to fight the Batman. And having you there just might…complicate things. You know how the Batman is—trying to save Gotham. He would use you as a distraction—he would try and take you away from me—and well…that just cannot be. I cannot let that happen," he responded as he placed a gloved hand to the side of my face. I was speechless. I didn't know what to say.

"There, there, Giada. Everything will be just…fine. You and I can…take over this city once the Batman is…gone,"

"So you do want to kill Batman?" I asked.

"No! I don't want to kill the Batman—he's too much fun," the Joker giggled.

"So then how can I join you in your battles if you say you don't want the Batman dead? Just gone? What do you mean?" I was so confused.

"Not this time, Giada. Next time," he said, grabbed my face again, firmly pressed his lips to my forehead, and left me there on the street. It was not a kiss of 'wish me luck' or 'I will miss you' or 'I care about you'. It was a kiss of 'you are mine' and 'I need you' and 'we will destroy this city together'. I wanted him to love me, not just feel the need to have me. My heart sank further into my stomach as I wandered through the streets back to uptown where my apartment was. I guess I would just stay there and wait the whole thing out until he was done with his work.

My life would not be a fairytale like Beauty and the Beast, because at least in that story, the Beast found that he could love. No, this would not be my story. Mine was the Trapped and the Deranged, because I was destined to be trapped by my love for him and trapped by his words. He was deranged by his mystique for me—his obsession with the idea that I understood him better than anyone else—that he understood me better than anyone else. We were the Trapped and the Deranged.


	16. Jade's Debut

16. Jade's Debut

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Dark Knight—but I reference a scene from it in this chapter. Enjoy!! Another enormous thanks to my reviewers!! You are all fantastic!_

I arrived back at my apartment building, but rather than go in the front door, I thought I'd try the fire escape, like the Joker and I had done when getting into his apartment. I giggled to myself as I jumped up and grabbed on to the metal escape and pulled myself up. I then walked all the way up to the top, kicked in my living room window and jumped into my apartment. I had such a rush of excitement going that I decided to clean my entire apartment. Clean? I know, right? Whatever gets you off, right? I blasted my iPod on the radio—Dude Looks like a Lady, to be exact and got to cleaning. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea after all—cleaning every surface, every utensil, glass, plate etc. There would be no guarantee that the GPD wouldn't search my apartment for finger prints—my connection to the Joker. All I had to do was clean every surface thoroughly so they wouldn't be able to find anything on me. Well, in any event, I cleaned—and I cleaned for hours; I needed to take my mind off the fact that I wasn't able to help the Joker. I decided I needed to put my feelings aside. I was now on his side—I decided to join him for the once last time. I had to now either go big or go home, AKA, join him 100 in whatever chaotic adventure he endures, or have him kill me. There was no longer any other option, so I might as well make the best of it!

Once I had finished cleaning, I went into the kitchen and searched through the cabinets for food. _Now here's a way I can make the best of being with the Joker_, I thought to myself as I pulled food out of their resting places, _I'll make him dinner tonight. He'll surely be hungry when he comes back from blowing up those ferries!_ I ran into my room, grabbed one of my duffle bags, filled it with some personal belongings (clothes, makeup, underwear etc) and then filled the rest of the bag with food, spices and olive oil. Oh, and my sewing kit. I had an idea to fix the clothes he had given me. I then took one more look around my apartment for anything else I might need and then left through the window, down the fire escape. I took the back allies all the way back to downtown where he lived.

As I traveled the allies, I could hear car horns honking, as thousands of Gotham City citizens were stuck in traffic, no doubt trying to leave the city. The Joker no doubt made his public announcement. I glanced up at the sky and saw that it wouldn't be long before the sun was below the horizon.

Well, I was right. As I reached the Joker's building, it was already twilight. That walk from uptown to downtown took much longer than I had anticipated! I climbed up his fire escape and kicked in the window to his apartment. All was dark.

"Joker?!" I shouted, "Mr. J—you here?" I called as I let myself in. I lit the candles and searched the entire apartment. He was gone. He must be waiting somewhere for the Batman. I glanced at my watch. It was only 7:45. He had a while before he had to blow up those ferries. I wondered if he would come back before that. Oh well.

I took my duffle into the bedroom and set it down on the bed. I then noticed a Joker card with hand writing on it sitting atop the dresser with the face paints. I took the card and read it: _Wear the face paint when you come. See you tomorrow – J_.

What?! I had NO idea what any of that meant. What was even stranger was that he knew I would be coming back to his apartment. Freaky. He really did know me better than I did. I didn't know I was coming back here when I left him this afternoon.

"Wear the face paint when you come. See you tomorrow," I read aloud again. He must be planning something. No—the Joker doesn't plan. What the hell could this mean?! I shook my head and turned away from the dresser with the paints. Maybe I would begin to sew his clothes. I saw the clothing pile on the floor by his bed. I knelt down and took the clothes…there was something hard wrapped up inside the clothes. I unwrapped the clothing and found a gun with another Joker card attached: _And don't forget to bring this – J_. A gun. My heart began to pound inside my chest. He knew I had no other choice. I would have to bring this gun to wherever I was meeting him tomorrow. I was _not_ enthused.

I put the gun down on the dresser next to the paints so I would not forget it tomorrow. I then turned back to the clothes and removed a few from my duffle.

Taking the pile out into the main living room, I sat down in a chair and began sewing my creation. It didn't take me long, but when I had finished, it was perfect: from the red button down shirt he had given me, I cut out diamonds in random placed and sewed the red diamond cut-outs onto my black corset. I then cut off the left sleeve of the shirt and the right leg of the black pants he had given me. I cut open the sleeve's seam and sewed it to where the right pant leg had been. Trying it on my leg, I pinned the sleeve to where it fit around my leg and left the rest open. I sewed up the sleeve that was now a red, half open pant leg. I cut off the cuff at the bottom and cut the sleeve ending into a diamond shape. The other pant leg, I left black, but cut it up to my mid-calf so I would match the length of the new pant leg. I then cut the black pant leg into a diamond shape at the bottom.

Finally, using the cut off black pant leg, I opened the seam and made it a narrower strip of material and sewed it onto the sleeveless side of the red shirt. My alternating sides would be black and red. I made the black pant into a hanging sleeve that attached at my shoulder to the red shirt, but hung off my arm in diamond cut strips. Then to the other red sleeve, I simply rolled it up to my elbow. I would wear the black and red diamond corset under the shirt with red puffy and lacy Moulin Rouge style shorts/underwear under the black and red pants. This would be what I would wear tomorrow when I would meet the Joker, wherever, with my face painted; oh yeah, and with the gun.

Well, I guess I would get to cooking. I was starving.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

While I was cooking, I was unaware of the Joker's location, but Batman was well aware, thanks to a sonar-based machine he had built using Lucius Fox's sonar concept by hacking into every cell phone in the city. Good thing I didn't use my cell phone at all that night, right?

While I was eating my dinner, I kept an eye on my watch. No doubt I would hear the explosion at midnight, and midnight was fast approaching. By now, the Joker had to be fighting Batman. Maybe he should have left me the detonator so that if he was still fighting at midnight, then I could just press the button. Oh well. His fault for not thinking of that one.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"_We really should stop fighting. We'll miss the fireworks!" _the Joker said as he held Batman down.

"_And here…we…go," _he said, motioning his hands. There was nothing. No explosion. The Joker looked back at the clock, which clearly showed the hands at midnight.

"_What are you trying to prove? That everyone's as crazy as you? You're alone,"_ the Batman stated, as the Joker sat on top of him.

"_You can't rely on anyone. Luckily, I came prepared. You know how I got these scars?"_the Joker said as he took out the third detonator.

"_No, but I know how you got these,"_ and without warning, the Batman hoisted the Joker over his head and the Joker fell from the building. He laughed the whole way, until Batman shot down to him, which wrapped around the Joker's leg. As Batman hoisted the Joker back up to him, he laughed uncontrollably.

"_You just couldn't let me go, could you?_ _This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets and immoveable object. You…truly are…incorruptible. You won't kill me…out…of…some misplaced sense of self righteousness. And I…won't kill you because…you're just too much fun. I think…you and I are destined to do this forever," _The Joker said to Batman as he hung from the building.

"_You'll be in a padded cell forever,"_ the Batman replied.

"_Maybe we can share one. They'll be doubling up, the rate this city's inhabitants are losing their minds," _The Joker responded.

"_This city has shown you that it's full of people ready to believe in good," _Batman growled.

"_Till their spirits break—till they get a good look at the real Harvey Dent, heh, and all the heroic things he's done," _The Joker replied, "_You think I'd risk losing the battle for Gotham's soul in a fist fight with you? No… you need an ace in the hole—and mine's Harvey," _

"_What did you do?" _The Batman asked, as the Joker continued to swing upside down from the building.

"_I took Gotham's white knight, and brought him down to our level. It wasn't hard. You see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little...push," _The Joker laughed as Batman got up and left the Joker, dangling above the city by just his leg.

It was then that the GPD and SWAT teams found the Joker, hanging upside down. He just kept on laughing. The Batman had finally gotten the Joker, but he clearly was not phased by this. Maybe it was because he had turned Harvey Dent into another raging sociopath. Maybe it was because he knew he wouldn't be held in County for long. But whatever the reason that kept the Joker laughing as they pulled him back into the building, placed the handcuffs about his wrists and brought him out and into the police cars, he just kept on laughing. And he wouldn't be back in the apartment tonight.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I turned on the news because I never heard the ferries explode. I wondered if his organized chaos had gone horribly wrong.

"Breaking news; The infamous mass murdering criminal, the Joker, has finally been caught tonight. We have Sherry live, down at the waterfront. Sherry," the news anchor stated.

"Thank you Rob. Tonight, Gotham Cities most wanted criminal, the Joker, has been caught. GPD and SWAT team officials have taken the Joker into protected custody at the County jail. It was discovered that he had these two ferry boats filled with people….rigged to blow. Some of the Joker's hostages have been taken away to Illinois State Hospital for mild injuries, but thankfully, no one was killed. I'm Sherry Donovan, signing off,"

I turned off the TV. Well, the Joker was caught. He must have known he would get caught, because I knew exactly what I needed to do. Walking into the bedroom, I stood before the dresser topped with face paint. I carefully picked up and gun and held it in my hand.

It was time for Jade to make her debut.


	17. The Joker's Asphyxiation

17. The Joker's Asphyxiation

_Disclaimer: the lyrics at the beginning here are not mine, they belong to Muse. I felt they fit the Joker/Giada relationship quite well. There is a pretty cool video on youtube with the Joker and Rachel that is to this song if you'd like to check it out! Enjoy!!_

_I think I'm drowning, _

_asphyxiated _

_I wanna break this spell _

_that you've created_

_You're something beautiful_

_A contradiction_

_I wanna play the game_

_I want the friction _

_You will be the death of me_

_You will be the death of me_

_Bury it_

_I won't let you bury it_

_I won't let you smother it_

_I won't let you murder it_

_Our time is running out_

_Our time is running out_

_You can't push it underground_

_You can't stop it screaming out_

_I wanted freedom_

_Bound and restricted_

_I tried to give you up_

_But I'm addicted _

_Now that you know I'm trapped, sense of elation_

_You'd never dream of_

_Breaking this fixation _

_Muse, Time is Running Out_

Morning came and I awoke on the Joker's bed alone. I had the waste the day away until the opportune moment. I knew what I had to do, but the real issue was running this operation myself, without the help of the Joker. Well, he didn't plan things, he just anticipated chaos. Maybe I should do the same. If I make a plan and things don't go according to plan, would I know how to fix it? If there is no plan to fall through, then there would be no fixing things. I would improvise. I would paint my face and take the gun, like he had instructed and I would improvise.

This man was going to be the death of me, but there was no quitting him. I was addicted to him, drawn in by his mystery, obsession and disturbances. He fascinated me, and there was just no going back.

I spent the entire day making sure that everything was set—the gun loaded, the face paints full, my clothing secure. That fucking Joker—getting caught and having me figure out how to get him out of County. How the hell was I supposed to get him out of County? No doubt he would be under a watchful eye—or many. What did he expect me to do? Rig County to blow? I didn't really know how to rig anything! I checked and re-checked the gun a hundred times before I finally decided that my time was running out. I had to change into my clothes. I dressed myself and then went to his dresser to paint my face. I squirted out the white paint and rubbed it all over my face. I then took the black and rubbed it over my eyelids, drew on a line under both of my eyes and up and out to my temples. I painted the red onto my lips in Geisha fashion and finished up with red and black dots, to match my costume. I took the gun and placed it into my last minute gun holder—sew onto my corset so to be hidden under the red button down shirt. I tied up the ends of the shirt, put on my stiletto heals and swung out of his apartment window. I climbed down the fire escape and traveled through the allies of Gotham.

As I wandered closer and closer to County, I thought of various ways that I could free the Joker from County. What lengths would I have to go to in order to do this? What would they believe and what wouldn't they believe? Well, I had to think and I had to think fast, as I came up upon County. Suddenly, I spotted a window that was at the perfect level for me to access. I took in a deep breath and released it. I knew what I would do. I took in one last deep breath, clenched my hand into a fist, and punched the glass window as hard as I could. My hand erupted into agonizing pain as shards glass stuck into my hand and blood dripped from my veins. I then quickly took a piece of the glass from the ground and cut the glass into my scars, opening them. Screaming at the top of my lungs from real pain, I ran around the corner and into County.

"Help me! Somebody help me, please!" I screamed in pain.

"Are you okay miss? What happened? Where are you coming from?" the lieutenant asked me.

"I'm a dancer at the Jokers Wild, a new club over on 51st and 2nd street and a man attacked me. A fight broke out…and he threw me into window. I tried to stop it and my fist went through the window…" my voice shook as the pain in my hand and chest throbbed excessively.

"We'll send some people out right away miss. What did this man look like?"

"He was tall, with brown hair—I could have sworn it was Bruce Wayne! But it couldn't have been! Look for someone who looks like Bruce Wayne!" I exclaimed in agony as I fell to the floor, grabbing onto my chest with my busted hand.

"Miss, we'll call the ambulance right away, just come right this way," the lieutenant tried to help me up. I slowly stood to my feet as he led me around the corner. I got a glimpse of the Joker sitting in the jail cell. He was grinning. I fell back down to the ground in pain.

"Miss, please, come this way. We're going to need your help in identifying the man," the lieutenant stated.

"No! I won' go back there! I'm staying right here until the hospital gets me!" I shrieked.

"Miss, please, get off the floor—it's not sanitary down there," the lieutenant knelt down to help me up but I reached my hand into my shirt and pulled the gun from its holder and shot the lieutenant in the stomach. He fell over and I forced myself to jump to my feet.

"She just shot the lieutenant! Grab her!" an officer exclaimed. I aimed the gun at him and shot him in the head. He fell to the floor, followed by two other detectives and officers. Once everyone was out of my way, I grabbed the keys from the Lieutenant's belt and unlocked the Joker's cell.

"Well done, Giada," he said with a smile, "now let's take a look at that…hand," he said as we ran from the County jail and into the back allies of the city.

Once we reached his apartment building, I stopped and fell onto the pavement.

"I can't climb that, I really can't," I said between clenched teeth.

"Yes you can," he stated.

"No, I really can't. It hurts too much…I…can't," I said through heavy breathing as I fought back the tears.

"Well, let's take a look at that hand then," he said as he knelt down next to me and took my hand in his. He then noticed blood seeping through the red shirt and ripped it open. "You really are hard core, Giada," he giggled as he removed the red shirt from me.

"I don't care—just fix it, please," I said, squeezing my eyes in pain. This man was literally sucking the life out of me.

"I'll be right back—I have some things…I hope you don't mind," he said as he jumped to his feet and climbed the fire escape to his window. He was undoubtedly retrieving a first aid kit of some sort.

Back on the ground, I writhed in pain and kept my eyes shut. Focusing on something else helped me take my mind away from the pain.

"Finally alone, are we?" a voice came from behind me. I forced my eyes open to find a gun pointed at me and Harvey Dent—or what appeared to be half of Harvey Dent. Half of his face was burnt to high hell, exposing flesh, tendons and parts of his skull.

"Harvey! What happened to you?" I asked, near tears.

"It's Harvey Two-Face, or just Two-Face, if you'd like," he responded, walking closer to me.

"Harvey, please don't shoot me—it's Giada DiMarco, remember me? From Bruce Wayne's party that night? The one from Boston!" I pleaded.

"Where's the Joker? He mustn't too far from his toy," Two-Face responded.

"His toy? I'm not the Joker's toy," I replied, breathing heavily in pain, "he'd kill me if could,"

"Well, I'll give him that chance when he comes by," Two-Face stated as he showed me his coin. All of a sudden, there was the sound of clanking metal. Both Two-Face and I glanced up and saw the Joker coming out of the top window.

"I'll just be hiding over here then," Two-Face said with an evil grin as he hid back into the darkness.

"Joker! No! Don't come back down here!" I shouted up to him as he climbed down the fire escape.

"Do you want my medical attention or don't you?" he asked as he finally jumped onto the ground with a bag of things. He knelt down next to me and took out some sterile tweezers.

"Really, you've got to leave," I said.

"See, Giada, you helped me get out of County—this is the least I can do for you!" the Joker laughed as he plucked the glass from my hand.

"What a harlequin pair you make," Two-Face said as he emerged from the darkness. The Joker averted his gaze from my hand and up to the voice.

"Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent!" the Joker laughed in elation at the sight of Two-Face pointing a gun at him.

"From the looks of things, Giada, I'd say that the Joker here isn't about to kill you any time soon. I don't know what you're talking about," Two-Face stated as he approached us closer.

"Me? Kill Giada? Who put that spontaneous thought into your head, Harvey?" the Joker asked, incredulous at the thought of killing me.

"Well, Joker, you gave me the fair option of kill you back in the hospital, so I thought I'd play the same chances with your girlfriend here," Two-Face stated. I shut my eyes tightly as I breathed in and out in pain.

"Harvey, you don't want to kill Giada—" the Joker said, putting down his tweezers.

"Well, she has the same chances as Rachel—you should know that—you were the one who put us in that situation," Two-Face explained.

"But Harvey…it was nothing personal, remember? I thought you believed me that it was…nothing personal," the Joker responded with a grin.

"Well, the same goes for this, then—heads she lives, tails she dies. I hope you know it's nothing personal," Two-Face stated, showing off his half burnt coin.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

See, if this were any other situation, even the situation when Harvey had given me the same scenario for myself, I took the gun to my head and had responded with a grin, _"now we're talking_". I half expected to feel the same. But my lips were curled into anything but a smirk. I hadn't felt this desperate in years—not since the war. As I gazed down at Giada, lying half in my arms, half on the pavement, I felt something I hadn't felt in years—I didn't want her to die. I knew in that moment if Harvey flipped and that coin landed on tails and she died, I'd be devastated. Wait, what? I'd be devastated? Why was it fair for me to blow up Rachel but it wasn't fair for him to shoot Giada? It was fair—he could kill her if he wanted—if the odds failed her, she'd die. That's fair. That's chaos. I wasn't going to let that happen. I was not going to let Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent kill my Giada. She was finally on my side, and nothing was going to take her away from me—not this time. Fucking Harvey Dent! You can't rely on anyone—just Giada. She does what I ask of her and more. But not Harvey—you turn Gotham's White Knight off the deep end, thinking he'll take to chaos, but then he brings his chaos and turns it on me. Go figure. If only he were predictable like the Batman.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I opened my eyes and saw Harvey holding the coin. I knew I was screwed. The Joker couldn't do shit to save me.

"Well, Joker? There's no way for you to ever feel what I felt in my last moments with Rachel—hearing her voice, telling her it was going to be okay, even when I didn't know what would happen. Do it. Humor me, Joker. Pretend like you care about Giada. Pretend you care about what happens to her—tell her everything is going to be alright—Lie. Lie like I did," Two-Face said as he held the gun out at me.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Lie? Who said I'd be lying?" I asked.

"What is this? Joker, are you saying that you're actually capable of feeling emotional compassion for another being?" Two-Faced asked with a snicker, "because, really, Giada, I pity you—being in love with a madman like this who has no capability to love you back,"

Giada just remained silent. I didn't know what she was thinking. I always know what she's thinking. She was just as clueless as I was. Or was I clueless. Compassion? Maybe that was the feeling I was getting as I saw Harvey pointing that gun at my Giada.

I closed my eyes and swallowed. When I re-opened my eyes, I saw Giada gazing back up at me. Damn those eyes of hers! Those eyes…something about them made me feel things inside. Ever since I met her, I've never been able to quite explain it. I hadn't felt those things from someone else's eyes in years…Harvey! I licked my lips and bit my bottom lip. What was this feeling? Was I drowning? Yes, that's it. I was drowning, asphyxiating in emotion I didn't know I was capable of feeling anymore. Asphyxiating on emotions I hadn't felt since the war. He flipped the coin. Damn you Harvey!


	18. Everything Will be Fine

18. Everything Will be Fine

_Disclaimer: I apologize if this chapter gets kind mushy—I promise it won't stay mushy for long! Thank you again all of you for reading and reviewing!!_

Harvey Dent flipped the coin and caught it in his hand. Lying in the Joker's arms, I half expected to see him smile at the chaos in having probability determine the course of someone's life—but he didn't. He didn't look up at Harvey until the coin was in mid air. Harvey caught the coin on his hand.

"Tell her it's going to be alright, Joker," Harvey coaxed, as he covered the coin, not knowing whether it was heads or tails. The Joker looked down at me again. I don't think he knew what to say.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I had no idea what to say! Giada just gazed up at me, speechless…I was um, well, speechless too. See, having Harvey standing over there…telling me I had to tell Giada that everything was going be okay, just wasn't going to…work for me—but I thought I'd give it a try.

"Um, Giada," I said, then cleared my throat and licked my lips, "well…things are going to work out…as they always do,"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Wow, he was really going to tell me it was going to be okay. I couldn't believe it. The Joker backed down to Harvey Two-Face Dent! I didn't care if I was going to die—the Joker backed down to Harvey Dent!

"It takes just a simple push to make someone cross over into madness, as you can tell from our good friend Harvey Dent—but you…you Giada, you're going to be just fine—because…well…I won't let you die—not unless I'm the one pointing that gun at you," the Joker stated, unsure of what he was saying. It was clear he wanted to laugh, like he always does, but couldn't find it within him to do so.

Wow, that was romantic. I was so glad that those were going to be the last words I heard in this life.

"Thanks, Joker. Those were nice words to hear right before I die," I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes at him. It was very apparent he had no idea how to tell me everything was going to be okay.

"No, no no no, Giada, you don't understand," the Joker said suddenly, as he looked over at Harvey who was pointing the gun at me, "I'm not going to let you…die—because, well—I just can't let that happen,"

"And why not, Joker? Why should she not die? Why can't you let her die like so many of the other innocent people you've killed?" Harvey angrily asked.

The Joker licked his lips, cleared his throat and bit his lip. What was this feeling? Why couldn't he let me die?

"Go on! Enlighten us with your psychotic cognition—how can the Joker not want one person to die, but has _no_ remorse in killing _thousands_?" Harvey asked, waving the gun about.

"I…think…I love her?" he garbled. Two-Face heard exactly what he wanted to hear and turned to the Joker as an evil grin formed on his lips.

"Bingo," he said under his breath as he cocked the gun, "then it seems to me this will be more painful to you that I had anticipated," he said as he showed us the coin, "tails," he said as he pointed the gun at me. I closed my eyes tightly, not knowing what to expect. As I heard the gun shot go off, the Joker jumped from the ground at Harvey and the Batman, who had appeared behind Harvey, grabbed his arms, making him miss me in the gun fire.

I opened my eyes to see the Batman, the Joker and Two-Face in a brawl for the gun, which had fallen from Harvey's hand when Batman grabbed him. I finally was able to raise myself to my knees, when all over a sudden the bullet ricocheted off the metal fire escape and landed itself into my right shoulder. I screamed out in agony as I fell back to the pavement. This was really not my day.

"And in the end, the odds are always fair!" Two-Face exclaimed as he saw me hit the pavement.

"Harvey, how could you do this to Giada?" Batman growled as he grabbed Harvey's arms and twisted them behind his back.

"Because she is the one weak spot the Joker has—I had to get him where it hurts the most—where _I_ hurt the most!" Two-Face exclaimed as he wriggled within Batman's grasp.

"The Joker has no weak spot for anyone," Batman snarled.

"Yes! He loves her—in some sick and deranged way—but he loves her," Two-Face said as he motioned his head towards me and the Joker, still struggling within Batman's grasp.

After the Joker heard me fall to the ground, he ran back to me and knelt down beside me.

"Now Giada, you're not going to die—we'll fix you up—I've got some tweezers here that can pull this bullet right out…" the Joker explained quickly as he took the tweezers from his bag.

"Joker! I'll take her to the hospital—she needs medical attention—real medical attention," the Batman stated.

"Since when did I ever take advice from…the Batman? She stays with me!" The Joker exclaimed in return.

I shook my head as I gazed up at the Joker. Things were starting to look a bit fuzzy for me and I knew I must be losing consciousness soon.

"Thank you, Mr. J, but the Batman is right—I need to go to a hospital. If you really don't want to lose me, let me go with him. If what you said is true—let him take me to the hospital. If it's not, then by all means, treat me here," I said, my voice strained.

"Well, we must get you out of this little…predicament, don't we?" he asked with a laugh, ignoring everything I had said. He went into his bag, licked his lips and searched for a few medical tools to stitch me up. Well, there was my answer. What he had said earlier wasn't true. I should have known—he only said it because it was what Harvey wanted to hear. He wanted the Joker to feel the pain he felt, so the Joker lied and pretended he did.

"Joker, I'm taking her to a hospital," Batman growled, after he finally punched Harvey hard enough that he was knocked out cold.

"I'm doing something!" the Joker exclaimed as he threaded a needle.

"You're just going to make it worse—she's going to die," the Batman explained.

"She's going to die if I don't temporarily close this wound," the Joker replied, staring up at Batman in the first real serious moment I'd see in a while.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"Because I've seen these wounds before," the Joker replied, "now this is going to hurt Giada—just…hurt me if I hurt you too bad,"

I nodded my head and closed my eyes as I felt the needled pierce my skin. I had no idea the Joker knew anything about wounds and medicine. He really was a brilliant all-around psychopath. I assumed he learned these things from being in the military. As he sewed up my wound, the pain was so unbearable that I couldn't help but punch him in the face.

"Woo! Better punch me when I'm not in the middle of sewing up your shoulder," the Joker laughed as he shook his head from the blow. He finally finished and put the needle down.

"There we go, Giada, my girl," he giggled as he stood to his feet, closed up his bag and lifted it from the ground.

"Well…?" the Joker asked finally, as he looked at Batman and then back down at me.

"Well what, Joker? You sewed her up, now what do you expect of me?" Batman asked.

"Are you taking her or not?" he asked, "you better take her soon before I…change my mind,"

In my last few moments of what I could remember, my heart jumped at that. Maybe he hadn't been lying when he said he thought he might love me. I never thought I'd see the day when he might say those words. Maybe it never happened. Maybe it was all a hallucination from the agonizing pain I had been in for what seemed like days. The last I remember was the Batman lifting me from the ground and as I got higher and higher into the air, I could see the Joker looking back up at me. I saw him reach down and picked up the gun that Harvey had threatened me with. He pointed the gun at Harvey, who was lying unconscious on the ground for the second time that evening. Then there was the sound of a gunshot. The Joker put a bullet through Harvey Dent's head. He was finally at rest.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"We have a 25 year old female here with a gunshot wound to her right shoulder, lacerations on her upper left chest and glass wounds in her left hand," I heard the nurse explain to the on-call ER resident.

"Call the OR stat—she needs that gunshot wound out right away," the resident responded.

"Right away, doctor," the nurse replied.

"Miss DiMarco, is it?" one of the nurses asked me. All I could do was nod my head 'yes'.

"You've got some pretty bad wounds here on your hand—we're just going to give you some Novocain and pull out the glass shards. You'll only feel the pinch of the needle," the nurse explained. Again, all I could do was nod my head 'yes'. The pinch from the needle was the least of my pain and worries at the moment. I was actually relieved once the Novocain set in so I could no longer feel the throbbing pain in my hand as she plucked out the remaining pieces of glass.

I then remembered vaguely being rushed down the hall to the OR. The nurses surrounded me and they were all assuring me that I'd be just fine. Where was the Joker when you needed him to tell you that you were going to be just fine? I couldn't help but laugh inside my head at that one. Or maybe it was the laughing gas they were giving me. Yeah, I think it was that.

"Just count backwards from 100, Miss DiMarco," I remember the surgeon telling me once I was in the OR. He placed the mask over my face.

"100, 99, 98…" and I was out cold.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I opened my eyes and all was still dark in the ICU. Why was I in the ICU? Oh, I had surgery, that's right. All I could hear was the steady beeping from the hospital machines.

My head ached.

I looked down and saw that my left hand was all bandaged. Oh right, I punched a window. What an idiot I was! I took in a deep breath. It really hurt to breathe. I lifted my right hand and felt the pain from my shoulder. Oh right—the gun wound. Jesus! I was just falling apart! It was then that I noticed the bandages over my chest, covering where my scars had been. Yup, and that'd be from the window I punched earlier. I was batting a thousand today. I couldn't believe it was still the same day—it had to have been the longest day ever. I wondered what time it was. Maybe 4:00 am? 5:00 am? The sun had to be rising soon. I just wanted this horrible day to end—I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I hadn't cried this whole day—not even when a gun was pointed directly at me.

I lifted my left hand and wiped away the tear with the bandages. Face paint covered the bandage as I brought my arm back down to my side. I had forgotten I was wearing face paint. They didn't remove it for surgery? Maybe they removed most of it. I let my eyes close. I just wanted to be asleep and forget everything that had happened. I wondered where the Joker was. I wondered if he missed me. He told me it would be just fine—would it?


	19. Listen with Your Heart

19. Listen With Your Heart

The next day, I was woken up every four hours for pain meds, vital signs, etc. Each time I was dragged from my slumber and brought back into reality was horribly sobering. I would be reacquainted with the previous day's antics—the gun shot, the glass wounds, the Joker. I wouldn't eat anything the nurses brought me. I just wasn't hungry, which wasn't like me at all. I'm always hungry and ready to eat anything.

It wasn't until sundown, when I had been awake for a couple of hours that I began getting antsy in my bed—that, and I had to pee (damn catheters), so I slowly crawled out of bed and made my way into the bathroom. Luckily, I was finally able to pee on my own.

On my way back to my bed, I stopped and looked out the window. I wondered where the Joker was and if he even remembered where I had gone. I felt the familiar pit beginning to form inside my stomach as my heart sank deeper and deeper into my abdomen. I crawled back into bed and closed my eyes, hoping I'd fall asleep.

"Giada…Giada?" a low voice grumbled in the darkness of the hospital room. The sun had set hours ago and all was dark and silent in the hospital. Only the beeping from the machines could be heard—and the voice that had said my name. My eyes flew open. I had been asleep.

"Who's there?" I asked as my voice cracked. I hadn't really spoken all day.

"Giada, I'm having you transferred to another hospital," the voice said. I squinted my eyes and made out the tall black figure in the corner of the room. It wasn't the Joker. My heart sank. It was the bat.

"Why are you having me leave this hospital?" I asked, trying to sit up in the bed.

"The Joker's looking for you, Giada. He'll find you here and no doubt blow up the hospital for the mere sake you were here for too long without him," Batman explained.

"That's ridiculous. If you move me to someplace else, he'll find out I was here and blow it up anyway for the mere fact he's angry I'm no longer here. It's really a no-win situation," I responded.

"It's too late. The arrangements are already made to send you elsewhere for treatment," Batman stated.

"You can't just have me sent somewhere else without my consent," I replied with a small chuckle in disbelief.

"No, but your health care proxy can," the Batman responded.

"What? You contacted my mother?" I asked, incredulously, "I don't want to be transferred from here. What if I want the Joker to come for me?"

"It's too dangerous here for you, Giada. The Joker's a mad dog and he's somehow managed to poison your mind—but there's still hope—but if you get out of here," Batman further explained.

"I don't want to get out of here—I…I can't leave without the Joker," I took in a deep breath, "I love him," I said finally.

"And that is unfortunate for me to hear. You do know the Joker will never love you in return—he's a man not capable of love or feeling emotion for any other,"

"That's a lie and you know it. You saw him last night in the ally with Harvey and the gun and everything—he was genuinely upset that Harvey wanted to kill me," I replied.

"That's what he wanted you and Harvey to think. He wanted Harvey to think he could feel what Harvey felt, but it's not true—the Joker can't feel anything but his desire to construct chaos and anarchy in this city," Batman stated firmly.

"I won't have it. I know otherwise—I know he can care for me—even if it takes a lifetime. I know he can learn how to feel emotions again. He was a person once, too, Batman—he was once capable of feeling and loving—even if he never feels anything for anyone else—I know he can feel things for me," I said, wanting to cry. I knew it had to be true. I just wasn't going to accept any other truth, even if it were the real truth.

"It's too late to change things here—but elsewhere…you'll be better off—away from this place," Batman reiterated.

"Running away from something is never the answer, especially if I don't want to run away in the first place," I responded, finally wiping away an inevitable tear.

"You're not running away—I'm sending you away for your own good. We are all ready to do good and I know you have more than the ability to do good—you are good Giada, but the Joker has made his way into your mind to make you believe he cares for you and in that way, he has set you on a path to destruction," Batman said.

I just remained in the bed, trying to force the tears away, but they kept falling despite my efforts. "I won't go," I said finally.

"It's too late for that, Giada. Have a safe trip," the Batman said as he approached me. Before I could say or do anything, I was being injected by some kind of sedative which more or less caused me to remember nothing from than point forward.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I awoke the following morning in a hospital—but not the same hospital that I was sedated in the night before.

"Good morning Miss DiMahco," the nurse greeted me when she noticed I was awake, "I was just going to wake you up for meds,"

_You've got to be kidding me_, I thought to myself. I knew that accent anywhere—'DiMarco' to 'DiMahco'. I was home. I was in Boston.

"Where am I?" I asked, pretending to sound drowsy so I could figure out which hospital I was in.

"You're at Beth Israel—in Boston," she answered.

"Oh wow," I responded. Beth Israel Deaconess in Boston—a well renowned hospital in the area—along with the many other hospitals. I knew I was in a good place, but not in the city I wanted to be in. That was something I never thought I'd feel: not wanting to be in Boston. I could only imagine what the Joker would do once he found out I wasn't even in the state of Illinois anymore. I was sure he'd burn the entire state to the ground. Batman undoubtedly set himself up for a battle—using me as the bait to lure the Joker. The Joker would surely blame Batman for my disappearance, and when he figured it out, he would challenge Batman to their fiercest battle yet.

My questions flew through my brain: would the Joker come for me when he realized where I was now located? Now that I was home, where would I live? Would I have to go back home and live with my mother? Should I go back to Gotham against Batman's wishes and fight him myself to show the Joker that I was still on his side? Should I just get a job here and forget the crazy life I lived in Gotham City for the short amount of time I was there? What of Bruce Wayne, my ex-employer? Would he take me back if I went back to Gotham?

My head spun as the questions kept whirling through my mind. Maybe I felt like I was spinning because of the pain medication. The oxycodon was definitely just administered to me and I was definitely feeling it. Damn it! I hate those pain meds!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A couple of days later, I was on the phone with my mother. She urged me to come home, as Italian mothers often do. She told me she knew I'd be coming home soon from Gotham anyway and that I belonged home in Boston and not so far away in some place like Gotham. All I could do was shake my head knowing that this was all contrary to what she'd told me what I informed her of my job position with Bruce Wayne. Oh well. There was nothing else I could do. I couldn't leave for Gotham now that my mother knew I was back in Boston—especially since she now knew I was in the hospital because of a gunshot wound. She'd never let me leave Boston again!

The next day, the surgeon gave me the O.K. to go home. I was discharged from the hospital and my mother picked me up that afternoon. She was overjoyed to see me and I was excited to see her too, but I couldn't get the Joker out of my head.

"Oh Giada, what's wrong?" my mother asked me once we got home. I was sitting at the kitchen table with my head resting on my hand.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I'm fine," I replied.

"I know that's a lie. I'm your mother—I know when things are wrong," she replied as she sat next to me.

"I was just in the hospital, mom! You can't expect me to be all happy," I said with a small chuckle.

"I know that, but something just doesn't seem right with you—ever since we talked on the phone. You just seem…different," she replied.

"Well, I'm sad to have left Gotham. It wasn't something I chose for myself," I stated truthfully, avoiding all things alluding to the Joker and Batman making me leave.

"Well you were shot! I'd hope that after something like that you'd leave eventually!" my mother exclaimed.

"Yeah,"

"And all of those Joker killings! I'm telling you Giada, that city is a mess. It's best you got out while you could," my mother stated, "I was worried sick when the psychopath threatened to blow up those ferry boats with all of those innocent people," My heart jumped. She had heard of the Joker. Oh lord.

"Yeah, me too," I lied, trying to avoid that conversation.

"Oh Giada, I haven't seen you act like this since…since…Joey Ciarlone broke up with you! You're not in love are you?" she asked. Fuck it! She knows everything! She's the Joker too! What is it with these people knowing me better than I know myself?!

"Well, there was this guy in Gotham," I answered truthfully.

"Were you dating?" she asked.

"I don't know—I guess maybe. But I was really into him and I was never really quite sure about how he felt for me. Well, in any case, he didn't know I was flown back here and I'm just wondering where he is and if he even knows I'm gone,"

"Well, can you call him?"

I hadn't thought of that—I could call the Joker. No I couldn't. He didn't have a phone in his apartment and I wasn't sure of the cell phone he carried around with him. I had no way of contacting him.

"Well, listen with your heart, Giada. It will never steer your wrong," my mother said finally as she rubbed my back and then left the room.

"Sometimes I fear it already has," I said softly to myself.


	20. Alone

20. Alone

_Disclaimer: To all of my reviewers—thank you so so so much!! You really are truly brilliant!! I am glad you all love the songs I pick—hopefully you'll like this one too! It is called 'Alone', by Heart_

_I hear the tickin' of the clock_

_I'm lying here, the room's pitch dark_

_I wonder where you are tonight_

_No answer on the telephone_

_And the night goes by so very slow_

_Oh I hope that it won't end though_

_Alone_

_Till now, I always got by on my own_

_I never really cared until I met you_

_And now it chills me to the bone_

_How do I get you alone?_

_How do I get you alone?_

_You don't know how long I've wanted_

_To touch your lips and hold you right, oh_

_You don't know how long I have waited_

_And I was going to tell you tonight_

_But the secret is still my own_

_And my love for you is still unknown_

_Alone_

There he was—at the back of the Joker's Wild, watching me dance. I could see the white of his face as clear as day through the black fog of the club. My heart skipped a beat as I could see him watching me dance. I could make out the definite smirk of gratification on his face, accentuating his scars. I wanted to touch him.

After my number, I went into the crowd and walked right up to him.

"So you are dancing again," he said, licking his lips as he continued to grin.

"Yes. And you came for me?" I asked, returning his grin.

"Why else would I be here? Gotham needs us, Giada," he replied as he held out his gloved hand. Luckily people in this city did not recognize the Joker when they saw him. To the people around us, my painted face and his was just an act. Smiling, I took his hand and we walked into one of the private stripping rooms.

"Did you mean what you said that night?" I asked him finally once the curtain was closed behind us. He sat down on the red sofa and patted the spot next to him as he had done when we first met in my apartment back in Gotham.

"Giada, I'm a man of my word. You should know that when I say something, I mean it," he replied as he pulled me into his arms.

"Well, I'm sure there's been no doubt in your mind since then, but I've been dying to tell you for so long that…well…I…"

OO

My alarm went off, screaming right through my dream, in the exact place I wake up every time I have the dream: right before I can tell the Joker that I love him. I sat up in bed and rubbed my face in my hands. The room was still dark. Why had my alarm gone off? I checked the time. It was 9:30 PM. Shit. I had gone to take a nap and set my alarm. I was going on at 10. I jumped up from bed and changed out of my office clothes and into my other clothes. I put my jacket on and left my apartment.

As I walked down the street, I took out my pocket calendar and crossed off another day. To the day, it had been exactly two months since the Batman sent me away from Gotham back to Boston. Every single day since the day I returned, I wondered where the Joker was and what he was doing. Why hadn't he come for me? Why was he waiting so long? Would he ever come for me?

I had moved out of my mother apartment and into my old apartment two weeks after I had gotten back to Boston. I had applied for multiple jobs to try and utilize my degree, but I had gotten no calls back from any employers. I had finally gotten a call for a part time position at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. They couldn't offer me full time, so I took the part time position in pediatric oncology as a psychotherapist. I wished so much that it could be full time because I could barely make rent on my apartment. Not really knowing what else to do, I saw in the paper that they had recently opened up a Joker's Wild Gentlemen's club in downtown Boston. At the point, I realized that there were no coincidences. I hauled my ass down to the club, applied, auditioned and got a job there, dancing four nights a week from 10PM—2AM. Needless to say, I could now make rent.

Each night I painted my face and put on my red and black corset and costume, I hoped that I would look out and see him there in the crowd watching. But each night, I would go home alone. I just knew that he knew I was working there—he had to know. He had to know I was in Boston. He had to come for me. Each night I would dream of him coming to the club and bringing me back to Gotham to be with him.

That last night in Gotham, I was going to tell him I loved him. But I couldn't. I wasn't even sure if he meant what he said. The rational part of me knew that if he had meant it, I wouldn't beginning my third month back home in Boston—he would have come for me by now.

I walked in the back door of the club and went into the dressing room to put on my face paint and costume.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What do you want?" the Batman's voice growled.

"I…would like to know where you decided to re-locate Giada," the Joker said as he licked his lips.

"And why would I tell you a thing like that, Joker?" the Batman asked, almost incredulous at the Joker's forwardness.

"Well, because if you don't tell me—people will die. Each day she's missing, people…will…die," he responded in a low voice, and then let out a cackle of delight.

"You're sick, Joker. You'll never find where I brought her. She's safe now, away from you and your twisted mind games. Just leave that poor woman alone," Batman responded.

"I…I won't," the Joker replied as he tongued his scars from inside his mouth "and as you know—I'm a man of my word. People…will die, and you…will be the one that everyone is after,"

"What is your fascination with her? Why retrieve her? Of what value to you is she?" the bat asked.

"People are going…to die," the Joker stated finally, not hearing what Batman was asking him. He knew very well why he wanted me back—but he'd never say it to the Batman.

"Joker! We're not playing these games—not this time," Batman growled as he grabbed the Joker by the lapel of his jacket and held him up to the brick wall of the ally.

"Then just tell me where she is—that's all you have to do!" the Joker choked out through Batman's grasp and then licked his lips.

Batman remained silent and released the Joker from his grasp. "It doesn't matter where she is—you'll never be able to reach her,"

"Is she in Gotham or isn't she?" the Joker asked.

"None of this matters—" Batman began, but the Joker pulled his knife out on him, knocking him to the ground. The Joker climbed on top Batman and held the knife to him.

"Is she…or isn't she?" the Joker threatened, "because if she is, then I'll find her—and then you…won't have to be Gotham's proclaimed savior after my mass murdering. If she isn't—well, then I'll still find her and people will still die," he laughed maniacally.

"You'll never get away with this, Joker," Batman replied, struggling beneath the Joker's grasp.

"I'll ask again—is she…or isn't she? Yes or no, Batman!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My song began. I chose the song for the Joker—my whole being at the Joker's Wild was for him—all of it—my dancing, my costume, my dance, my song—it was all a personal dedication to him and what he'd made me realize in our time together. "Time is Running Out" by Muse—it described the Joker and I perfectly. I had fallen in love with the twisted and sadistic addiction the lyrics wrote about.

"Let's hear it for The Joker's Jade!" the announcer said as my song began.

I walked out on stage to the beat and placed my hand on the pole. I started my dance. Whenever I danced, my mind was always in another place, thinking about the Joker. Sometimes, I would pretend he was sitting by the stage watching me dance—it would really be my only inspiration to finish the dance. Suddenly, one of the men made a comment that caught my conscious attention.

"The Joker's Jade, huh," he chuckled, "I wonder if she knows anything about that Joker out in Gotham and all those killings he's been doing," a man said softly to a man next to him.

"I doubt it," the other man replied with a laugh.

I hadn't watched the news since I had been home. I refused to. The Joker killings in Gotham—I wondered if it had anything to do with me. I knelt down, smiling at the two men.

"I'm the Joker's girlfriend," I sad seductively to them and then stood back up. The just laughed, enjoying my performance. I knew people would never actually believe any of that stuff—especially since I was putting on an act by simply working there. It fit Jade perfectly. Part of me wondered that if the Joker were to show up, would anyone even notice him? All of our staff wore painted faces and joker clothing. He'd be a needle in a haystack inside the Joker's Wild.

I finished my dance with a sly smile and walked off stage. That had been the first I had heard of the Joker since I had been home. Nobody in Boston really talked about things that happened in other cities, especially the Joker's killings. I assumed it was well-known knowledge, but if it wasn't happening in Boston, then it wasn't a priority of discussion.

In the dressing room, I changed into my floor costume and went out into the crowd of men. I was one of the only dancers who didn't perform private strip teases. The regulars always teased me about it, but I didn't care. I'd rather be alone, because I was waiting for one particular man to come in so I could be alone with him. I vowed to myself that I would wait for him to come in, because I just knew he had to. And now that I knew that he was going crazy with the killings, I figured it must be out of retaliation to Batman for taking me away. He had to find me soon; though I had no idea how long the killings had been going on for. For all I knew, they could have started this week—but they could have been going on for two months as well.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Alfred, the Joker's unstoppable—I just don't know what to do," Bruce said as he gazed at his Bat armor.

"Well, Mr. Wayne, I think it's probably safe to say that Batman can only handle so much. How much more do you think Batman can endure of these killings? Should you just tell him where she is?" Alfred asked.

"I just don't see the point in it," Bruce replied, "I just don't see her importance to him,"

"Well, she's clearly an important asset to him or he wouldn't be killing off half of Gotham," Alfred chuckled.

"Batman can't endure this," Bruce stated, "if it's me not taking off my mask, it's telling him where Giada is—the Joker's just a sick and crazed man who kills for no real reason at all. I can't give the satisfaction of knowing who I am or knowing where Giada is just because it's something that he wants,"

"But can you let him go on killing like this?" Alfred asked.

"No—I can't. Batman can't. But Batman is no longer an outlet for the GPD. They're going crazy down there trying to capture the Joker, but they cannot locate him either. I don't even know where he is," Bruce explained, "this is beyond Batman. I can only do so much to stop these killings and I feel that I've just about reached that limit,"

"Then I think you have your answer if you want Gotham safe and free from the Joker's killings," Alfred responded.

"So I tell him where she is?" Bruce asked, "It just seems too easy—that he would almost prefer for me to not tell him. It's never that simple with the Joker,"

"So then set it up for him—a game of clues for him to find out where she is. Maybe lead him to her, that way he finds her and is no longer in Gotham," Alfred suggested.

"Oh, that's not a bad idea—that way he won't be in the city anymore and the GPD will have time to figure out who he is—then they can get the Boston police to arrest him,"

"Set him up in Boston—have the GPD notify the Boston Police that he will be there—they will put out a search warrant for him and arrest him," Alfred stated.

"Perfect," Bruce said as he took out his armor and began dressing himself.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I hear that he paints his face," a man from Boston wearing a clown mask said.

"Paints his face? Why the hell would he do that?" another Bostonian man asked, also wearing a clown mask.

"You know—like war paint," the first man replied.

"Well I hope he knows there are easier ways of getting money back to Boston than this," the second man responded.

"I'm sure he does—but my assumption would be that there's a warrant for him back at home too," the first man stated.

"Ya think? No one back in Boston really gives a shit about the Joker. I mean, really, what can he do? The man's a crazy fuck—he won't last in a small city like Boston," the second man replied. "What do you think?"

The third man just remained silent and shrugged his shoulders.

"He robs banks and kills people. There's not much to it. Boston's a city that works well for criminals like Whitey and the Strangler," the second man continued.

"Well, Whitey still hasn't been caught," the first man suggested.

"Yeah but the Joker's not cleaver like Whitey—Whitey fuckin' owned Boston and the cops," the second man stated.

"I'm sure I heard the Joker owned nearly half of Gotham in that same way," the first man replied.

"No fuckin' way," the second man responded, "I mean, we come to Gotham for a bank robbery assist for this guy and last minute, decides he wants the money taken back to Boston. Who does that? Here we are in a truck full of a fuckin' billion dollars and the Joker thinks he can just take a share in this when he ain't even the one doing the robbery and the drive back East,"

"I thought he said to kill the truck driver," the third man said finally. The two other men looked down at the third man, also wearing his clown mask.

"Kill the truck driver? Why the fuck would he tell us to do a thing like that?" the second man asked.

"Maybe the Joker is crazier than we thought," the first man said, slightly nervous.

"Maybe he meant for me to kill you," the second man said as he pointed his gun at the third man.

"Uh uh uh," the third man said as he stood to his feet and tilted his head to the side.

"I was told by the Joker to kill anyone who said something stupid like killing the truck driver!" the second man stated as he cocked his gun. The third man pulled his gun out and killed the second man before he could even pull the trigger.

"You kill him! Are you fuckin' crazy?!" the first man exclaimed.

"I've been told such things—but I've learned that what doesn't kill you, only makes you…stranger," he said as he pulled off his mask to reveal his painted face. He cocked the gun and shot the first man, then crawled into the truck passenger seat. The truck driver kept driving as the Joker held the gun up to his head.

"Thanks so much—but I'll be finishing the trip alone!" the Joker laughed as he pulled the trigger.


	21. Smile

21. Smile

_Disclaimer: Thank you so much to my readers and reviewers! You are deities among humanity!!_

"It's Britney, bitch," the song began as I walked out onto the stage; my second routine of the night. Yes, I know it's "Gimme More" by Britney Spears, but it is the perfect song to dance to. I got a lot of crap from the girls at the club for picking that one, but I just ignored them. I figured that Britney's just as much of a freak as I am.

I danced. The song came and went. Before I knew it, I was off stage again, waiting for my third routine to start about an hour later.

I sat backstage, wondering if tonight would be the night he would come to get me. I wished so much that my dream would come true—that I would be up there dancing and spot him in the back of the club. It seemed like only a few moments I had been day dreaming, until one of my friends and co-dancers, Matilda came running into the dressing room.

"Giada! You're up next! Get your Jade face on now!" she exclaimed as she pulled me from the chair. I quickly fixed myself and ran to the curtain. "Helter Skelter" began. Gotta love the Dana Fuchs version, not that the Beatles' version isn't good! But when it comes to dancing at a gentlemen's club, Dana Fuchs has the right idea. In any case, I danced with the same blank stare on my face as I had the rest of the night and walked off stage. I just wanted my last song to be on so I could go home. I wished he would come, but it was getting late by now.

The minutes seemed to creep on by as I waited for my last song to begin. We always end the night with our first song. I think it's because it's always the song we do our best at. It was probably 1:15 AM when my finishing song was due up. "Welcome back to the stage for her final dance of the night, the Joker's Jade!" the announcer said.

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes as I walked out onto the stage for my second dance to "Time is Running Out". I grabbed hold of the pole and slid down it. I kept my eyes focused on the stage until I came back up. I decided to finally gaze back up from the stage and out to the crowd. My heart stopped. At the back of the club, I saw him. His back was turned for the moment. The Joker had just come into the club. I decided to sing out on this last dance—for him. I picked it up and tried to get his attention.

"I wanna play the game, I want the friction. You will be the death of me. Yeah you will be the death of me. Bury it. I won't let you bury it. I won't let you smother it. I won't let you murder it. Our time is running out—our time is running out," I sang as I danced. He turned towards the stage and saw me. Grinning, he watched me from the back of the club. His face was perfectly painted white and his purple suite was clean and crisp. His lips were red and his eyes black, as always. My heart skipped another beat as we finally made eye contact. I out a sly smile as I dropped to the ground and crawled to the edge of the stage and continued to sing.

"I wanted freedom, bound and restricted. I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted…" I sang, staring straight to the back of the club at the Joker.

"It's Jade's Joker!" some of the men laughed as they saw me singing to him. The Joker just kept grinning and licking his lips as I performed my song for him. His eyes shifted about the club every now and then and finally back at me on the stage. I couldn't help but smile as the song finished up and I strutted of stage. I wanted to run out there and see him, but I had to act the part, because let's face it—he was in a gentlemen's club called The Jokers Wild with a painted face. There was no way anyone would ever believe he was the notorious criminal, The Joker.

"Oh Giada, who is that guy with the painted face? He wouldn't stop watching you with that creepy grin!" Matilda exclaimed when I got back to the dressing room. I laughed as I began putting on the rest of my costume.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I responded with a chuckle.

"No?" she asked as she folded her arms across her chest, "Well try me,"

"They call him the Joker," I stated as I touched up my face paint.

"Oh like that criminal out in Gotham?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't really know who that is," I lied with a laugh.

"Well just be careful, Giada. He looked creepy," Matilda responded.

"Don't worry. I know him—he's a personal friend from high school. I think he came here as a joke. We haven't seen each other in years!" I exclaimed with excitement. Man, I was getting really good at lying.

"Oh well then get out there!" Matilda exclaimed as she took away my makeup and shoved me out the door.

"No, I'm not done yet!" I giggled as she dragged me to the club door.

"I don't care! You have a friend waiting for you! Now go!" she laughed as she pushed me through the door and slammed it behind me. Glancing around, I couldn't see the Joker anywhere. I decided maybe he was still in the back of the club. As Jokers Jade, I strut around the club, pretending to be interested in the other men, but I was really keeping an eye out for my Joker.

When I had finally done an entire round about the club, I ended at the back to the club where he had been standing during my performance. I stood there, shoulder's slumped in confusion as I quickly turned my head about in search of him. Where the hell did he go?! Did he leave without saying good-bye? Was he going to blow up Boston?!

"You sure know how get a man's attention up there," a voice said from behind me. I spun around to see his face smiling back at me.

"You scared the shit out of me!" I exclaimed as I smacked the Joker's arm. My heart was racing a million miles a minute. He licked his lips and let out a cackle of delight.

"So nice to see you too, Giaaaaada!" he giggled as he swept his hair back from his face.

"Sorry—I just thought you left or something. I wasn't expecting you to be standing right behind me," I explained.

"Nope! Here I am! I came…for you," he said with a grin.

"Oh good, that's my professional goal here at the Jokers Wild," I said sarcastically. He let out a laugh, clearly enjoying the innuendo. "This way," I said finally as I took his gloved hand and led him through the crowed towards the private rooms.

"Jade's got her Joker! She's gonna give him a private dance, huh?" some guy said as we brushed passed him. I glanced back and smirked.

"Well of course—he came for me and I'm gonna make sure he comes again," I replied, still smirking. I loved making dirty innuendos! I dragged the Joker into a room and shut the curtain behind us.

"Finally a little privacy," I said as I turned to him. He was already sitting on the couch, licking his lips and smiling back at me.

"It's been too long, Giada. Gotham's in need of its higher class of criminals!" he stated with a giggle.

"Oh, is that so? I heard via the news that you've been doing just fine without me—blowing up the city as usual," I replied, still standing in front of him.

"Oh but it's never quite as fun as when you have a partner in crime," he responded, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

"Well if you wanted me back that badly, what took you so long to figure out I was here in Boston?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

"I like sending a message—obviously these things take time," he stated, licking his lips.

"How did you know I was in Boston? Did Batman tell you?" I asked.

"The Batman," he said in a low voice. He paused, as if in revelation.

"Yes, Batman. He's the one who sent me here from Gotham," I stated, "Did you know _that_?"

"The Batman…see…look, listen…" he cleared his throat, "A man like me can easily be caught up in…trivial…criminal circumstances, but when it comes to the Batman…well, nothing's trivial," he said as his eyes seemed to grow darker. I could see the hate rising within him. There was no way he knew Batman sent me here.

"Aw, Joker, don't be mad at Batman," I said, changing my stance and voice entirely to be more cutesy—you know, try to take his mind off of hating Batman. I bounced over to the couch and knelt down beside him.

"I mean, this is what you love, isn't it—your epic battle with Batman—I mean, you're destined to do this with him…forever," I coaxed him as I ran my fingers through his hair.

"He knows…he knew where you were—and he knows I wanted to find you but he didn't tell me," the Joker responded.

"Well, did you ask nicely, or did you hold your peeler up to his mouth?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Gotham got what it deserved—as did…the Batman," he stated in a low voice, ignoring my question. I didn't really know what to say. He clearly wasn't buying my "be cute" take on things.

"Joker, look, listen—you found me, I'm here. Batman's in Gotham—we're here, just you and me—alone—and no Batman anywhere _close_ to here," I stated in a more serious manner. Holy shit—we were alone. Batman wasn't anywhere near us. Harvey Dent was dead. It was just the Joker and I—alone in my city. He was still silent. I looked around the room for a moment and then back to him.

"Hey, do you like what I did with my face paint?" I asked finally. He turned his head and a smile broke out on his face. Then his smile faded as he licked his lips and turned himself entirely towards me. Sitting sideways on the couch, he got onto his knees and crawled towards me as I backed myself up to the arm on the other side of the couch. He When I could back up no further, he crawled on top of me, half smiling as he licked his lips. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to tell him I loved him. We were finally alone—like in my dream. I reached down into his pocket for a moment.

"You know? I like it," he said finally in response to my question about my face paint.

"Oh I'm so glad—" I began but stopped as he placed his hand on my face and held it firmly in place.

"But it's missing one…little thing," he said as he held the peeler up to my face with his other hand. Holy shit. I was not anticipating this! I was maybe hoping for a kiss—not a knife being held to my face! Oh who was I kidding? I was in love with a murdering criminal. I should have not only anticipated this, but should have _expected_ this! It really _had_ been too long. I just let him hold it there. I didn't know what to do or say. He just held the knife to my face. Was he going to put it in my mouth? What was he waiting for?

"Do it," I said finally.

"What?" he asked, taken off guard by my statement.

"I said 'do it'. If you're going to cut my face, just do it. Don't stall like this. It's killing me," I said finally as I took in a deep breath.

"Where's the fun if there's no anticipation?" he asked with a crazed grin.

"Well, maybe if you could figure out the right reasons for cutting my face, maybe it would be even _more_ fun," I responded.

"How so?" he asked.

"Well, if you thought it would make you happy to see my face like yours, then do it. If not, then maybe there is another reason for you to cut me. Maybe there is no reason at all. Maybe you just want to cut someone and I happen to be a convenient victim for you," I stated.

"Oh Giada, you're no victim," he stated, "And besides—why let me?"

"Why should I let you cut my face? I have my reasons," I responded.

"Do share!" he giggled adjusted his grip on the blade.

"Would it make you love me?" I asked finally as my heart pounded inside my chest and my stomach whirled about inside. He pursed his lips together as he looked down for a moment. Finally, as he looked back up at me, he slid the blade into my mouth.

Would I really let him cut me? Well, from the looks of things, it felt like he was going to cut me no matter what. But did I really want him to cut me if it meant he could love me? That was the sickest and most disturbing thought I had ever had, but my answer was even more disturbing. The answer in my head was yes—I'd let him if it meant he could love me.

But what of his answer? Would he just cut my face for no reason at all? Would he cut my face and tell me he could love me if I were like him? Would he cut my face at all?

"You know, I was going to say that was a poor choice of words, Giada," he said finally as he let the blade linger inside my mouth. I really couldn't stand this dance of sado-masochism.

"But…?" I managed to ask. He licked his lips and parted his lips as if about to speak. He then sat back on his heels, still holding the blade in my mouth and paused for a moment. Finally, he leaned forward once more and moved his face close to mine.

"But—where's the…fun…in this," he said as he removed the blade from my mouth and made a cutting motion with the blade on his own face, "when you…already smile all the time?"

"Huh?" I was so confused by his rhetoric that I didn't even see it coming.

"Let's…put a _smile_ on that face," he said finally.


	22. Blades and Wax

22. Blades and Wax

_Disclaimer: Perhaps some more inappropriateness in this chapter—all good though! MORE HUGE THANKS to you ALL!! I love you! Please, have my children—All of you!!_

I had to do something—he was going to cut my face—I was sure of it. I knew it was coming and I didn't even see it coming. I started to close my eyes, and with on swift motion, the blade slid from his hand and into my hand as his lips met mine. His hand held into my hand and the blade firmly as he kissed me. I really didn't see this coming at all. I was so relieved but shocked that I couldn't even enjoy the moment. In a surge of anger, I pushed him off of me and crawled on top of him, holding the blade up to his face.

"You—you were going to cut my face! You made me believe you were going to cut my face and then you kissed me! I…I…I'm so…so…_angry_!" I shrieked at him. He just started to laugh with delight as I continued to hold up the blade to his face.

"Good—be angry, Giada—you need to feel anger, because when you feel anger, then you can become an agent of chaos," he giggled as he grabbed a hold of my wrist with the blade. He placed the blade into his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

"Harness that anger—cut _my_ face," he coaxed.

My blood still boiling from his deceitful scar, I held the blade firmly, ready to hurt him. I could have done it—I could have reopened his scars with just one quick motion of the blade. I could have done it so easily—and he wanted me to. I could have done it. I would have done it if I hated him. I would have done it if my anger streak didn't last all of 60 seconds.

I removed the blade from his mouth and dropped it to the floor.

"I can't hurt you, Joker," I said finally.

"Where'd that anger go, hm?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not an angry person. I can get angry, but I can't stay that way for long—I'm really just a marshmallow," I said with a small laugh.

"But I know that if you have to be angry, you can—and you _will_. Giada—you really have been away from me for much too long. Have you forgotten yourself? Have you forgotten all that we've known together—all that _I_ know about you and the way you and I think? Look, listen—_I_ know that it wasn't your choice to come back here, but I also didn't blow up Gotham city in your absence for nothing,"

"You blew up Gotham for me?" I asked, nervous that Gotham was no longer standing.

"Well, to be fair, Gotham is still standing—but look, Giada—people like us have to stick together and well, when the Batman takes you away from me, he knows very well that the citizens of Gotham…will…suffer," the Joker explained. So all of the crime and explosions in Gotham had been for me—in retaliation.

"So you hurt all those people just because you were mad that Batman sent me away?" I asked, trying to get a clear answer from him.

"I'm a man of my word—and when I told him people will die—I meant it. People did die. For each day you were gone and he didn't tell me—people died," he further explained. I couldn't tell if it was obsession that brought him to me or love.

"But now I have you back again—and…together…we can work to fight against the Batman. We can be together…now…Giada. Our minds can now work together as one mind because, as you know, _you_ complete _me_," he stated with an aggressive smile.

I couldn't decide if that was incredibly romantic or obsessive. Despite he true intentions, it made my stomach flutter with excitement that he had finally come for me—that he felt I completed who he was—be it romantically or obsessively. I didn't care. My love for him blinded me too much for me to care. Either way, he had once again managed to persuade me to follow him.

As I watched him, I felt like I wanted to persuade him. He couldn't always be the one trying to get me to do things. Maybe if he could persuade me to be with him, I could persuade him to feel things for me—perhaps even to love me. I knew very well that he had a normal life once and was able to care for others. I had to persuade him that he could feel those things again—that I was worthy of feeling those things again. I'd have to go with him and prove to him he could trust me and therefore, trust himself, to let go and feel love for me.

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" I asked, cracking a smile, "You want me to go with you—you've got me. Let's get out of here,"

"And whatever happened to my private dance?" he asked, looking around the private room we were still inside.

"I can give you a better private dance back at my apartment," I said as I rolled my eyes and stood to my feet. Before he stood, I noticed the peeler on the floor. I quickly snatched it up before he could. "I'll be holding on to this from now on," I said.

"And why's that?" he asked.

"Because I need a weapon of my own," I said as I tucked it into my jacket pocket. He stood to his feet and led me out of the room.

"Oh wait! One more thing," I said as I ran back into the room as he held the curtain open. I gathered up a few things from the corner that are sometimes used by the other dancers—hand cuffs, chains—things of that sort. I put them all in a bag and together we escaped, hand in hand from the club unseen by anyone else.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"So this is the humble abode of Miss Giada DiMarco," the Joker said as he paced through my apartment.

"Yes, it is. And you've come unexpectedly—sorry for the mess," I replied as I quickly tried to straighten up a bit.

"As you know, I'm not interested in appearances," he said with a gesture to his smile with a single hand.

"Then I'm not interested in formality," I responded as dropped what I was doing and threw him onto the couch. I climbed on top of him and tugged hi jacket from his torso.

"I'm assuming this is the private dance I didn't get at the club, hm?" he asked with a giggle.

"Yeah, that's exactly what this is," I responded in a low voice into his ear. I began the seduction I had dreamt about every single night since I was taken from Gotham and taken from the one person who understood me best.

I ran my fingers through his hair as pressed my lips to his. It must have been quite the sight seeing one clown seducing another. I didn't care. I wanted him and I was going to have him.

I moved my hands from his head, down his face and neck to his tie. I untied it and threw it on the floor. I proceeded to unbutton his vest and shirt. As I kissed his neck, he groaned slightly, tapping his foot anxiously on the floor. I glided my hands down his arms, removed his gloves and dropped them to the floor. The Joker then broke out of my slight hold and started to remove my jacket. I pulled away and slapped him across the face.

"Uh, uh," I playfully scolded him. He just laughed and licked his lips as he let me continue to undress him, pulling his vest and shirt from his body completely.

"I understand you blew up Gotham in my absence, but you took so long to get here. I'm not very happy with waiting for a very long time, so I'm going to have to punish you for this," I whispered into his ear as I took hold of the handcuffs with my other hand.

"Is that so?" he asked in a low voice, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," I said as I snapped the cuffs about his wrists, "This way," I said as I led him into my room. I shoved him down onto my bed and crawled on top of him. I licked his chest all the way up to his neck and then his ears. He squirmed beneath me, clearly in sexual frustration, as I could feel from his pants.

"Why are you squirming, Mr. J?" I asked in a low voice. I removed the blade from my jacket pocket and held it up to his mouth, "This will only take a minute," I said as I placed the blade into his mouth and left it there while I pulled off his shoes, socks and pants.

Leaving the blade in his mouth, I kissed his licked his lips. He then turned his head from side to side a couple of times until the blade fell from his mouth.

"You know, Giada," he began. I slapped him across the face again.

"Shh. Don't speak," I instructed as I slowly removed his boxer briefs (yes!). He was beginning to go crazy with sexual desire, so I starting giving him fellatio. He immediately stopped squirming and remained still on the bed.

Once he began breathing heavily, I stopped and climbed back on top of him. I took hold of his wrists and undid the cuffs and removed them from him.

Within seconds, he ripped off my clothing and had me handcuffed with my hands behind my back.

"Do you have…any wax?" he asked me from behind as he held me firmly to the bed.

"You'd have to light a candle," I responded, gesturing to my dresser with my head. He quickly retrieved the candle and lit it. Holding the candle with one hand, he kissed and licked my back. Using his free arm and hand, he pulled me upwards so I was kneeling on the bed. Then, letting the hot wax drip over and onto my back, he penetrated me from behind. It was like no other sensation I'd ever felt—the hot wax on my back as he thrust in and out. I could have died happily in that moment.

Eventually, he removed the cuffs from my wrists and gave me back the blade. With him lying down and me on top, I dripped the wax onto his chest, while he held the blade up to my face. Yes, we fucked with blades and wax, and never in my life had I anticipated having that kind of sex. It was sadistic; it was liberating; it was dangerous; but most of all, it was with the only person I cared about, which was why having him hold that blade up to my face was such a turn on. I knew the power he possessed with that blade in hand and to have him inside me while holding the knife to my face the most sexually gratifying moment I'd ever experienced.

Yes, blades and wax—and I loved him for it. I only continued to wonder one thing: would he ever love me?


	23. To Gotham

23. To Gotham

_Disclaimer: Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing!! I am so glad you love it!! Sometimes I feel the Joker may slip out of character, but I am glad you all think I'm doing a good job at keeping him in character! He's fun to write and I'm having a blast writing it! I hope you keep enjoying the story!! ___

I woke up and half expected to be left alone—to be lying in bed without the Joker beside me. I was horribly mistaken. I guessed since we were no longer in Gotham, he had nowhere else to be that early in the morning. Thankfully he hadn't been planning on blowing up Boston. For that I was grateful!

I turned over and saw him lying beside me, breathing steadily…in and out…in and out…in and out. I never thought I'd be able to experience this rare occasion—when _I_ get to witness the Joker asleep from a full nights rest, and it broad daylight no doubt! His eyes were gently closed, the top lids just barely touching the bottom lids. His lips were also barely touching as he continued to breathe through his nose.

And yet, what I found most beautiful about him was the lack of white face paint covering his face. Most of it had worn off from sex and sleep—only dark smudges around his eyes remained and the tint of red continued to linger on his lips. For the most part, I was seeing the Joker's face—but without face paint. He was so handsome. I had never noticed before his strong jaw line; or the laugh lines that used to be continuous at the corners of his mouth, before his face was cut by soldiers; or just how much darker the color of his skin really is when compared to the white makeup he always wears.

Closing my eyes, I could just see how his chestnut brown eyes matched perfectly with the rest of his beautiful face. I didn't want to wake him, but I wanted to kiss him—to feel what his lips felt like to mine without the red paint on them—to feel what it would be like to kiss the Joker without his mask on—to see if I could make him feel like a person again.

I refrained. I closed my eyes and thought of him holding me close to him and feeling his gentle breath on my neck. He was so real, lying beside me—not some mass murdering criminal—but a horribly misunderstood and very deeply hurt person who had lost all capabilities of love. I vowed to myself in that moment that I would teach him how to love again—how to feel again—how to care again; even if it meant risking everything I had in order to do it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Giiiiiiiiiiada!! Time to…wake up!" the Joker exclaimed as he jumped onto the bed. I must have fallen back asleep from when I had last been awake and admiring him asleep.

"You know, I was awake before you this time—but somehow you still managed to wake me up," I groaned as I turned over onto my side, avoiding him. I bounced atop the bed as the Joker moved around until I finally felt his arm curl over my side. I could feel his breathing on the back of my neck as he spoke.

"Well from the looks of things you had fallen back to sleep—but don't worry—we don't have anywhere to be today…except right here," he said in a soft voice. I then felt his lips on my shoulder and back. It sent tingles down my spine. I never thought of the Joker to be the romantic morning type. I guess he fooled me again! He's good at that—making me think something of him and then surprising me with something else. Well, I couldn't complain. I just let him kiss and caress me—not a bad way to wake up in the morning!

Closing my eyes, I reached my arm back and held onto his head as he kissed me. I was just starting to get into it when I realized I should be at work.

My eyes flew open. "Oh shit," I muttered.

"Not something a guy likes to hear when he's seducing someone…" the Joker stated with a chuckle.

"No—I completely forgot that I'm supposed to be at work today," I groaned. The Joker simply spun me over onto my other side so that I was facing him completely. He pulled me close to him so that our bodies were flushed against one another. Pressing his forehead against mine, he simply smiled.

"Giada, a brilliant mind like you doesn't _need_ work—others need _you_ to do the things they simply cannot do themselves—like Bruce Wayne…and the Batman. _We_, you and I, however, are suited for one another—you and I work for each other…and no one else," he stated matter-of-factly. Well, he was right—Bruce Wayne did hire me to do the things he could not understand in regards to understanding the Joker; and I suppose Batman is the same way.

"Yes, but…see…they pay me to do things they can't understand themselves. That's the difference," I explained.

"We don't need to get paid, Giada. We don't need…money. I own half of Gotham. I have money—and people to work for me—and…if they don't…well, they know what happens to them," the Joker said with a grin.

I knew what he meant. He owned half of Gotham out of fear—no one would cross the Joker. If they did, they'd be dead within the day.

"Well then what do you propose?" I asked. He chuckled, licked his lips and kissed my cheeks, my lips and my neck.

"I propose you stick with me—drop off this little…job…you have, you and I…head back to Gotham, take over the _other_ half of the city and then you and I claim our kingdom and become the clown King and Queen of Gotham," he giggled.

"King and Queen of Gotham, huh?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in disbelief of what he'd just said.

"You'll get a crown—a nice big one…full of diamonds," he laughed and then licked his lips.

"For a second I thought you were serious," I retorted with a chortle.

"Only half. No crown—but I can get you diamonds…if diamonds are something you desire," he responded seriously.

"And how do you want me to help you take over Gotham?" I asked, moving my hand up to his face and brushing the hair away from his eye.

"Well…there's no plan just yet—but when there _is_ one, I'll let you know," he smirked.

"Right," I replied sarcastically, "And _that's_ supposed to make me want to help you out—and take over Gotham,"

"I'll put it to you like this—I'm a man of my word…as you know—and I don't disappoint," he responded, raising his eyebrows.

"So how do you propose we take over the rest of the city? You say you don't plan, but you've got to have something in mind if you're proposing we take over the other half," I replied.

"Well—it's easy. We, uh, get rid of the Batman," he stated, licking his lips.

"Okay—haven't we tried that already?" I asked, "And I thought you didn't want to kill him,"

"I don't want to kill him—we just need to…eradicate him from the city's premise. Once the Batman is removed from Gotham, you and I will have free reign of the city," the Joker explained, "and then…Batman…will have to seek somewhere else to…inhabit,"

"I see. And how do you suppose we 'eradicate' said Batman?" I asked, curious of his idea.

"Well, that's where you come in, my little psychologist," he said as he licked the tip of my nose. I didn't know whether to be terrified or amused.

"Go on," I said, cocking a dubious eyebrow.

"Well, you have a…knack…for analyzing people—like me—and…the Batman…and all I need is for you to analyze the Batman and give the report to me. From there, I can figure out Batman's weak spots and hit him where he will least expect," the Joker explained.

"Well that won't be too hard, considering I've already written up a report on Batman," I laughed.

"Is that so?" he asked as a grin began to curl on his lips.

"Yeah—I wrote it the same day I wrote your analysis—and let me tell you this, Joker, you and Batman are so similar you wouldn't even believe it," I said.

"I'd believe it—but I'd believe it more if you gave me that report," the Joker said with a cunning smile.

"And I would—if I had it with me," I retorted, flashing the same cunning smile.

"Where is it?" he asked, suddenly his smile fading away.

"Gotham—in my apartment there—along with all of my other reports; they were all on my laptop, which is…there—in Gotham," I stated flatly, "no thanks to…your buddy Batman,"

The Joker remained silent, clearly frustrated by the situation at hand. I watched his eyes as he was clearly thinking through the situation and possibly reforming his plan of attack. Within no time, that million dollar grin was back on his face and his mood once more chipper and giddy. He placed his hand on the side of my face.

"No worries, Giada, my love—we'll be back to Gotham—_you_ will retrieve that laptop and _I_ will find Batman—and then _you and I_ will get our city back," he stated and then kissed me.

"How long till we go back?" I asked, once he pulled away.

"We leave tonight—of course," he remarked.

"Oh, I see," I replied, feeling sad to leave Boston so quickly again.

"What? You want to stay here?" he asked, glancing about my apartment.

"Well…Boston _is_ my home, Joker—it's where I grew up! Of course I miss it," I said, but looking at his eyes change made my heart sink. His eyes grew dull as he pulled me closer to him, "but I do miss Gotham,"

"Are you sure you do? I mean…I couldn't imagine going back to Gotham without you, Giada—it just wouldn't be the same. I'd have to go back to blowing up the city without you—which is no fun at all. I've found that blowing up…things…without you…is like…you having to eat dinner alone—or—a fish trying to breath air; it's just not right. We're destined to be together, Giada—we're like fish and water…or you and I eating Italian food—it just works. And let's be honest here, I wouldn't have blown up Gotham city in your absence if it wasn't true—if I didn't believe you were…the one for me. People don't just blow up cities for nothing, you know. It's about sending a message—and well, I think the Batman got my message loud and clear: you cannot separate the Joker from his Jade," he explained.

I think that was the closest he had ever come to saying he had feelings for me. It didn't matter if the actual words "I love you" or "I care for you" were there—he basically said it in a giant analogy of fish and food and water…and blowing up cities. He was getting there. He was using analogies to access his feelings. He was getting there! This also meant that I was getting to him—I was gaining control to his emotions, which excited me.

I simply smiled at him and pressed my lips to his. "To Gotham, then," I said when I pulled away.

"To Gotham," he replied, breaking his lips into a devious grin.


	24. A Threat on Tremont Street

24. A Threat on Tremont Street

_Disclaimer: An enormous, over the top, HUMONGOUS thank you to ALL of my reviewers!! I love you all!! Ana—I like that song a lot—I may take you up on that and use it in a future chapter! Jacklin Sparrow—thank you for all your reviews! CarlyJo, HeartoftheJoker, HatefulShinobi, Snuffles-sweetie, BlackBaccaraRose, Heartsong's Fanfiction, iloveme5895, GreyScale27, gerardlover123--and just everyone else(im sorry I got too lazy to write out everyone!!)—so many to name hahaha—thank you all so much. I really appreciate your reviews and I really do love you all!! And now…for the story!_

"Mr. Wayne, any news from Boston?" Alfred asked Bruce. Bruce continued looking out the window of his pent house over the vast city of Gotham. Slowly, he turned and shook his head.

"No—not yet," he said with a small sigh and turned back to the window.

"Well fear not, Mr. Wayne—the Joker can only be there for so long before they realize who he is. They'll get him," Alfred responded with an encouraging smile.

"Yes—I have no doubt. But when they catch him, what of Giada? They're probably going to arrest her for being affiliated with the Joker and then what? She'll never trust me again—she'll know we put a warrant out for the Joker in Boston," Bruce stated.

"She'll know _Batman_ put a warrant out for the Joker—and rightfully so, Mr. Wayne. But to her, you'll always be Bruce Wayne—not Batman," Alfred explained.

"Yes, but despite what she thinks of me—her portrayal of Batman will be tainted forever. It probably already is, after having sent her back to Boston—and who knows what the psychopath has been telling her. It'll only be a matter of time before he corrupts her entirely. No doubt he's found her by now, Alfred—and then what? Does Batman go after her to try and save her from the Joker? If by some slight chance they both make it back to Gotham—_should_ Batman go after her?" Bruce asked in rhetoric.

"Well Mr. Wayne—that's up for Batman to decide. Giada _is_, after all, a valuable mind to have on your side, but no doubt the Joker wants her for his own selfish purposes," Alfred discussed.

"It's insane, Alfred—the way he is with her. I saw him with her and he's just—obsessed about her. It really wouldn't surprise me if she's sided with him by now—because from the looks of things, the Boston Police still have no been able to locate him," Bruce stated.

"In time, Mr. Wayne; in time. Batman will figure things out, and I think he knows better than I, the workings of this town and the minds behind it," Alfred said with a smile as he turned to leave.

"Thank you Alfred," Bruce said finally.

"You're welcome, Mr. Wayne," Alfred said as he left the room. Bruce kept his gaze out to Gotham, blinking sparsely.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I shoved clothes and books and all of my personal belongings into a couple of duffle bags as the Joker handed me random things to put in the bags as well.

"Let's hurry, Giada—Gotham awaits," the Joker stated finally.

"I know, I know! I've just got a lot of things here that I would like to bring back with me," I responded as I zipped up one of the duffle bags.

"Here—wear this for our travels," the Joker suggested as he handed me my black and red Jokers Wild costume. I just looked up at him in disbelief.

"Um, what?" I asked as I dropped the costume onto the duffle bag.

"If we're going to be a…Joker team—if you will…then you'll have to look the part, Giada my dear," he explained.

"Look, Joker, I have no problem dressing up at night when I'm dancing at the club, but to ask me to dress up like some harlequin by day is a little much," I responded.

"That's exactly it! You'll be my little harlequin!" he giggled. I shook my head in dismay at his enthusiasm for my costume.

"No can do, sorry," I replied as I packed the costume away. He put his gloved hand over mine suddenly as he knelt down beside me. Looking into my eyes, all humor was gone from his.

"Just for today—until we get out of New England, put the costume on. We'll look less suspicious. No doubt the…Batman…has a watch out for us in this town," he said as he cleared his throat and licked his lips.

He was right. Batman knew he was no longer in Gotham and since he had been looking for me, there would be no reason for Batman to let the Joker just come to Boston, pick me up and waltz on out. Batman definitely had to have notified the Boston Police Department of the Joker and his potential arrival to Boston. It could be a matter of days or hours until he was found. I agreed with him. I unzipped the bag and removed the costume. It would be a lot less suspicious if we looked as though we both worked at the Jokers Wild. I changed into my costume, painted my face and went to grab my bags. The Joker stopped me once more.

"You can't leave without this," he said as he pulled the peeler out from his jacket and handed it to me.

"You're _really_ giving this to _me_?" I asked, flattered that he'd even _consider_ giving me his most notorious weapon.

"You can't be teamed up with me without a weapon…can you?" he asked as he licked his lips and raised an eyebrow. I just smiled at him and wrapped my arms about him in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," I said finally as I pulled away from him.

"No Giada…thank _you_," he smirked. I couldn't tell if it was an all-knowing smirk, or if it was a genuine, 'thank you for what you've made me feel inside' smirk—like a 'I know something you don't know' smirk. I guess I'd have to wait it out.

In no time, we were out of my apartment and on the streets of Boston. The Joker carried one duffle bag and I carried the other. It looked like we were heading to rehearsal at the Jokers Wild, which was perfect. At least it _seemed_ perfect…until a cop car drove past us and slowed down considerably. The cop inside looked terribly suspicious and pulled over to the side of the road. We just kept walking as though nothing were any different and we didn't even notice him being suspicious of us.

"You there—both of you!" the cop called after us as we walked. We just kept on walking, pretending like he wasn't calling to us.

"You two—in he clown suits!" he called finally. I glanced over at the Joker and he exchanged a knowing glance and smile over at me. I was shitting my pants nervous—he just looks deviously happy. His big feet went to a halt. I followed his every move. He slowly turned around to face the approaching officer. I turned with him.

"Where are you two heading?" the officer asked as he approached us.

"Just to the Jokers Wild for a rehearsal," I replied anxiously.

"I can see that young miss—but who's your friend here? Does he have a name?" the cop asked me. I bit my lip before answering.

"Well of course he does—we call him the Joker," I responded with a laugh. The Joker laughed with me.

"Very funny—but we have a search warrant out for the Gotham criminal, the Joker, and I have reason to suspect that this mean here is that Gotham criminal," the officer stated as he pulled out his handcuffs.

"Excuse me, officer, we have a rehearsal to get to. This is most certainly not the Joker from Gotham you're looking for. I'm pretty sure I saw another man who fit that description back there over on Boylston," I stated.

"Well, sir, if you are indeed innocent, then you won't mind coming back with me to the station for some questioning," the cop replied.

The Joker just shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

"What's the matter? The clown here can't speak?" the officer asked, irritated.

"He can speak just fine," I stated.

"Then let's hear it from the clown, shall we? What brings you to Boston, huh? What's in your head, boy?" the officer asked, taking a small jab at the Joker. The Joker just licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. He took in a deep sigh and rolled his eyes over to me and then a smile stretched across his face.

"Well—officer, I came to Boston for this lovely lady here," he said as he gestured to me, "but as for what's in my head—well, _that_ is something not even _I_ can tell you," he finally replied.

"Oh really now? Well I believe it's about time I take you _both_ down to the station for some questioning," the officer replied haughtily. The Joker chuckled as he placed his gloved hand onto the officer's shoulder and leaned in close to him.

"And I believe that what doesn't kill you, only makes you…stranger," the Joker replied with a grin. The officer's face was sullen; no doubt a pit forming in his stomach.

"What's the matter, officer? Why so serious?" the Joker asked as he pulled away from the cop and licked his lips. Terrified, for some reason, the officer just stood in place, not moving. I think he was stunned by the Joker's remark, or by the fact that he had actually found the infamous Gotham City Joker.

The Joker stood there, waiting for the cop's reply, "No? Nothing? Alrighty—well, let's put a _smile_ on that face," the Joker said as he grabbed on to the cop and held his knife up to his neck. He motioned for me with his head. I took out the peeler blade and went to hand it to him. The Joker shook his head.

"It's your turn—dearest," he remarked with a wide grin. My heart sank. I had to cut this cop's face! What would I do? Could I do it? Could I really put a smile on his face? Part of me was full of adrenaline—a bitter excitement tainted with violence. But I was thrilled at the same time to finally work beside the man I loved. He trusted me enough with his most prized weapon—and I had to deliver. The Joker stood behind the cop, holding the knife at his throat. The Joker's eyes lured me closer as he grinned. A similar smirk formed at my lips as I walked closer, holding up the peeler. Wedging the cop between the two of us, I held the peeler up to his face and place it into his mouth.

"_Let's_ put a smile on that face," I stated finally. The Joker's grin widened and mine did as well, so to match his.


	25. Only the Beginning

25. Only the Beginning

_Disclaimer: I am so glad you all enjoy the cliffhangers and the story in general! Thank you all so much!! Also, I'll be using the song "You Make Loving Fun" in this chapter—courtesy of Ana! Thanks so much for the idea!_

It was a swift, smooth motion that came so naturally to me. Both the Joker and I let our blades glide through flesh. It all happened so fast that I could barely recall the details of my first destructive act on another person.

The Joker let the cop fall to the ground. I felt like everything was going in slow motion, though it all flew by me so fast I couldn't even think. As if we had planned it all along, he grabbed my hand, one of the duffle bags, and together we jumped into the cop car and drove away, leaving the cop for dead on the street. My adrenaline was still rushing through my body as we flew down the side streets of Boston. Not knowing what else to do, I started laughing. The Joker, driving the cop car turned to me and joined in with my laughter.

"I…I can't believe I did that!" I exclaimed through laughter, "let's put a smile on that face!" The Joker continued to giggle as I continued to lose control of my laughter.

"Let's put a smile on that face! Let's…put a _smile_ on that face! Let's put…a smile…on _that_ face!" I exclaimed excitedly, trying various emphases on the different words. The Joker was so beside himself in laughter that he could barely keep the car straight.

By the time we finally made it to the Mass Pike, we had both calmed down, but there would be random giggles here and there from the both of us. As we cruised down route 90, I reclined in my seat and took in a deep breath.

"Oh Giada, you make this so much more fun!" the Joker exclaimed finally, turning his head towards me.

"You know what, I think you make it more fun for me too," I responded. I couldn't believe what I was saying—I had just assisted in the death of a cop and I had been laughing about it—and I was saying that it was _fun_. I was definitely crazy. I didn't deserve to be a psychoanalyst—I needed a psychoanalyst to lock me up in a padded cell; that's what _I_ needed: to be locked up in a padded cell with the Joker.

"You've finally completely crossed over to me. I knew it would happen," he continued, "because as you know, minds…like ours…belong together. All it takes is a little…push,"

"You were right—you got me," I said finally. I glanced out the window and then back at the radio. Quickly, I unhooked the police equipment and tuned in to one of the local radio stations. As I scanned the stations, I heard an old favorite of mine just starting.

"Oh I like this song—good choice!" the Joker exclaimed at the sound of the music.

"I'm glad we caught it!" I laughed as I turned up the radio louder.

"Sweeeeet, wonderful you! You make me happy with the things you do! Ohhh, can it be so? This feeling follows me wherever I go!" we both sang in unison.

Laughing and smiling at one another, we continued to sing: "I never did believe in miracles, but I've a feeling it's time to try! I never did believe in the ways of magic, but I'm beginning to wonder why!"

During the musical interlude, we both danced around in the car, flailing our arms about like complete idiots. Yes—he was driving and flailing his arms just the same as I was.

Then suddenly, he took my hand in his and held it while we sang with repeat chorus, "I never did believe in miracles, but I've a feeling it's time to try! I never did believe in the ways of magic, but I'm beginning to wonder why!"

"Don't, don't break the spell. It would be different, and you know it will. Youuuuu, you make loving fun, and I don't have to tell you you're the only one," we sang—but something about that last verse felt different to me. I felt like he somewhat meant what the lyrics were saying.

He kept holding onto my hand and as he kept glancing over at me while we sang, he looked a little nervous. I decided to just keep acting like a fool to keep the mood light. I couldn't tell if he was telling me I make loving fun for him. I hoped he was, but I wasn't going to push it. I just pretended like I was just enjoying the song, not even listening to what the lyrics actually were saying.

I was having a hard time believing that the Joker could be nervous about anything—but I think that afternoon in the car, I found something that made him nervous.

When the song finally ended, I turned the radio down lower so I could talk to him, "Oh Joker! That song makes me so happy!" I exclaimed with a smile.

He just giggled and simply kept on driving. Finally, he turned to me with a question burning in his eyes.

"Giada, how…how many…_boyfriends_ have you had?" he asked, slightly grinning and licking his lips.

"In my entire life or just recently?" I asked, not really sure where he was going with this information.

"I…I want to know how many you've had," he stated, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I've been in probably three serious relationships and I've dated casually probably…oh, I don't know, four others," I responded with a shrug.

"And, and why did those long ones end, hm? Did you _break up_ with them?" he asked, licking his lips.

"No, actually they all dumped me," I responded with a slight laugh.

"And don't you wish you could see them all now so that you could just…put a smile on their faces?" he asked with a giggle. I couldn't help but laugh at this comment. It was true—I'd love to just beat the shit out of them, but I would not be something worth my time.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied with a laugh. "Well, how about you? Ever been in a relationship?" I asked, turning the tables on him.

"Who would even _dare_ to break up with Giada DiMarco? No doubt…those experiences have scarred you, Giada, hm?" he continued.

"Uh, yeah I guess so. I don't really think about those relationships anymore—I've moved past them," I responded.

"Yes, but at the time, they _did_ hurt you, didn't they?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes—quite a bit actually—I was almost engaged to one of them, but I'm really not sad about it anymore," I laughed, "But it's your turn—how about you? Any lovers?"

"Do I look like the kind of guy who's had a girlfriend?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Maybe, maybe not. Surely you dated people before you discovered the Joker within you," I coaxed him, smirking slightly. He glanced over at me and licked his lips. He slightly furrowed his brow and then gazed back out at the highway.

"I mean, I saw that picture of you back in Gotham—that one of you in uniform," I continued when he didn't respond.

"I know which picture," he stated flatly.

"I remember that picture fairly well, and I'd say that as a woman, you probably had more girls after you than you knew what to do with," I said, leaning back in my chair. I felt like I was finally gaining control of the conversation—he had to answer me now.

"I prefer to recall the days after that time," he stated, "because now I'm always smiling,"

"And back then you didn't smile? I find that hard to believe," I responded.

"Okay I was engaged," he said finally.

"Oh, is that so?" I asked, taken back completely by his statement. I had _never_ imagined the Joker as being the type to tie the knot! I wondered who the lucky lady was. I was insanely jealous of her—that she was able to get him to love her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. In that moment, I felt my blood rise within me and begin to boil.

"Yeah—I asked her before I left for war. She said yes. I went to war, they did this," he gestured to his face, "and when I came back, she couldn't stand the sight of me. She broke it off," he explained, "But as you said—none of that matters now, does it? Because, now I'm always smiling,"

I didn't know what to say to that. This woman deserved to die! She got his love—his one commitment to her for the rest of his life, and she left him for a couple of battle scars?! What a bitch—I'd like to put a smile on _her_ face! My heart sank for him, at his loss—but my heart sank with the realization that he could probably never find it in himself to love again simply for what he had endured with his fiancée. Damn that bitch for ruining my chances!

"Maybe relationships should just never be had," I said finally in defeat, "I mean, they only cause pain and destruction of one's ability to feel emotions,"

"_Now_ we're talking," he said, finally a smile broke onto his lips. I could literally feel my heart drowning in the depths of my stomach. It was true then—the didn't want a relationship ever again because this woman caused him so much emotional pain that he had inevitably been stripped of all capabilities of feeling anything at all; all of this on top of his traumatic war torture! The Joker was fucked up—and with good reason.

Should I give up on my mission to make him love me—to make him feel love again? Just moments ago when we were singing along with Fleetwood Mac, I could have sworn he loved me—that he was singing those lyrics to me—and now we're talking about how relationships are just terrible and people should never be in them! I was at a loss for words, emotions and thoughts. I sat there in silence, unwilling to speak to him.

"Oh Giada, what's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" he asked finally, after sitting several moments in silence. I glanced over at him and then back on the road.

"Come on Giada—what's that mind of yours thinking now?" he asked.

My blood was boiling. I was enraged that I could not make him love me. I was devastated he could never love me because of some other woman who had his love and threw it away. I loved him unconditionally—something she couldn't do, but because of her, I got burned. I hated everything in that moment. I hated that woman I didn't even know, I hated the Joker, I hated the cop car and I hated that I had just assisted him in a murder.

"What's in my mind?" I asked finally in a low voice, "That's for you to figure out on your own. Right now, you're uninvited,"

"Oh, uninvited, am I?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes. You are not wanted in my mind right now," I stated.

"Now I know that's not true, Giada—you _always_ want me in your mind," he replied, flashing me seductive eyes.

"No, I think _you_ always want _me _in _your_ mind," I replied crossly.

"Is that so," he responded, licking his lips.

"Yes, because for some fucked up reason, you take comfort in your little obsession with me—it makes you happy to know that you'll always have me around and that you can do what you will with me because for some reason you think I can't say 'no' to you—that I really have no spine around you. You are always thinking about how you can get me to do whatever you want me to do and that excites you. You think I'm unaware of your plans for me, but I'm well aware that you're only using me to you benefits," I spat back him.

"You really think I think this way about you?" the Joker asked finally.

"Yes, yes I do," I stated.

"Or are you only saying these things because you're…upset…with the things I've told you about my…past?" he asked as he cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. Oh fuck him! He knew me too well—I really couldn't get away with anything with him.

"Because as far as I know, I _do_ think about you all the time, but not because I am…using you. You're intriguing to me, Giada, and the mere thought of you…_excites_ me to no end!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

I was taken back. I had no idea he found me intriguing and that he really did think of me all the time. I wondered if maybe I still had a chance to make him fall in love with me. Maybe all hope wasn't lost? I didn't really know what to say.

"As for you having no spine—well I think that speaks for itself today. _You_ cut the cop. I didn't tell you to do that—you just did it yourself. You found it within you…to…take control," he continued, raising his eyebrows.

"If you were engaged to me and came home from war with those scars, I wouldn't have ended things," I said finally, my heart racing inside my chest. Well if that statement wasn't a clear statement as to how I feel for him, then I didn't know what was.

"I know that—you've shown me you don't care about the scars. That's why _I'm_ here taking _you_ back to Gotham," he stated, "remember—king and queen of Gotham," he said with a deviant grin as he motioned to he and I.

Was that his bizarre way of telling me he wanted to marry me? I was so confused. I couldn't help but let a smirk escape from the corner of my lips.

"Well I'd have to say this has all been strangely exciting," I said finally.

"It always is, isn't it," he replied, still grinning as he licked his lips, "and trust me, it's only just beginning,"


	26. A Big Purple Jacket

26. A Big Purple Jacket

_Disclaimer: I am so sorry for the delay in updates! I have been moving back to school and what not. So now that the year has begun, unfortunately, updates will not be happening quite so often, but I will do my best! My undying love to all my readers and reviewers! You are brilliant! _

Just before we reached the New York border, the Joker decided it would be a good time to pull off the highway into a rest stop. I turned off the engine to the cop car and glanced over at me with a large grin on his face.

"Grab your duffle bag," he said finally as he grabbed the other duffle and removed himself from the car.

"Why? Where are we going?" I asked as I quickly retrieved my duffle bag and scurried after him, "Why get out of the car here?" I asked as I ran to catch up with him as he briskly walked behind the abandoned rest stop building.

"Because we're bound to be tracked in this cop car—which is why we're meeting my good…old…friend, Happy here," he remarked as he gestured to an eighteen wheeler parked behind the building. The man inside was wearing a clown mask.

"Jesus, boss, you didn't say anything about ya girlfriend joining in!" the man called Happy exclaimed as he jumped out of the truck. The Joker and I quickly approached the man and the truck. As we walked closer, the Joker nonchalantly removed a handgun from his jacket and shot the man dead in his tracks. He fell to the ground in an instant.

"Why'd you shoot him?!" I shrieked as I ran over to his twitching body.

"Better dead than alive, is what I always say," the Joker responded as he placed the gun back into his jacket.

"He was helping us!" I exclaimed.

"Giada…darling…you see, when you've been doing this for as long as I have, you start to realize that you've got to do everything yourself—you really can't rely on other people…it's like this, two people can keep a secret, but only of the other person is dead—you see what I mean?" he replied as he raised his eyebrows and then tossed his duffle bag up into the truck.

"So it's only a matter of time before you kill me off then too?" I asked, standing to my feet.

"No; no, no no—see, I have no reason to kill you Giada—we've gone over this before—you…and I…_have_ no secrets—we…know everything about one another; but uh, Happy, over here, he knows nothing—and what he _did_ know, was, well, too much for him to know at all," the Joker explained as he licked his lips. I simply nodded my head in agreement and tossed my duffle bag up into the truck as well. The Joker then gave me his hand to help up into the truck. He then removed the man's body from the premise, probably disposing it in the woods.

Within minutes, he hoisted himself up into the truck and started the engine. We backed out of rest stop parking area and drove back onto the highway.

"Might as well get comfortable now—we've got a long drive ahead of us," the Joker stated finally once we were on the road.

"Yeah, I believe it," I said as I kicked off my shoes and removed my jacket and placed it behind my head for a pillow. I closed my eyes and leaned back, thinking about the day's journey and all I had done. I mustn't have realized just how tired I was, because I had literally fallen asleep in a matter of minutes.

When next I awoke, my head was against the passenger side window and it was still dark outside. I glanced down at the clock—it was only 1:35 am. We still had probably another five or so hours until we reached Illinois. The Joker just continued to drive, his eyes fixated on the road. The air conditioning was on and I felt the goose bumps forming on my arms. I closed my eyes again, trying to forget the cold. I couldn't help but shiver. I felt my whole body convulse from the cold as I wrapped my arms about my body. As I rubbed my arms for warmth, I must have fallen asleep again.

When I woke up that second time, I was no longer cold. I felt something heavy lying on top of me. I opened my eyes and looked down at the large purple jacket that covered me. I slowly glanced over at the Joker who was still driving, but only in his grey undercoat. My stomach turned with excitement at the realization that he had noticed I was cold and figured he would give me his jacket to keep me warm! I couldn't believe it—maybe he really did care about my wellbeing.

I grabbed on to the coat and pulled it around me, taking in the feeling of having his jacket around me entirely. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I took in every bit of his scent that remained engrained into the jacket. It smelled slightly sweet, a mixture of face paint, sweat and peanut oil. I wasn't really sure why it smelled good to me, but it reminded me of having him close to me.

I hoped I wouldn't dream of him while he was sitting right next to me; knowing my luck, I'd say something in my sleep about him, though he'd probably just laugh about it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

We arrived in Gotham the next day at 10:21. It took a lot longer than I had anticipated on getting back to Gotham. How the Joker drove all those hours without any sleep at all baffled me. He pulled the truck into an inconspicuous truck lot and turned off the engine. I sat in the passenger seat, still wrapped up in his jacket.

"You know, I'm going to need that jacket back—it wasn't cheap," he stated finally with a grin. I reluctantly unwrapped it from around me.

"I like your jacket—it kept me warm!"

"Well—it's uh, mine," he responded as he licked his lips.

"What if I pay you for it," I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Look, it completes the suit—I need the jacket," he stated and raised his eyebrows. I took one look at the jacket and then handed it back to him.

"Thanks for that, though—I didn't realize how cold I was," I replied.

"I hope you didn't mind…the, uh smell—haven't had the chance to really get it dry cleaned yet," he said raising his eyebrows as he put the jacket back on.

"What smell?" I asked, pretty much immune to the peanut oil, sweat and paint that continued to linger throughout the truck. I guess I never really noticed it before until his jacket was around me, and now I just didn't even really notice it at all.

"The scent of…my life," he responded with a small giggle as he opened the truck door.

"Are you sure you're okay to walk after driving for so long?" I asked.

"Well, Giada, as you know, what doesn't kill you, only makes you stranger," he replied as he went to take a step out of the truck and fell completely onto the ground. I then threw my door open and ran around the bit tractor trailer to his side of the truck.

Laughing, he crawled to his feet and stood up, swayed a bit as he walked and then fell back down to the ground.

"I think you'd better just sit here for now," I said as I glanced around the parking lot.

"Giada, I'm fine!" he exclaimed with a giggle.

"Shh," I said as I noticed a parked car in the lot. I quickly ran over to the car and looked inside. Keys. I went to open the door, but it was locked. I then checked all of the other doors—all locked. Taking a couple steps back from the car, I lifted my foot and licked the window in. The glass cracked. I kicked it again, but harder. Finally it shattered. I lifted the door lock and got inside, turned the keys and drove over to the Joker.

"Grab the bags and get in!" I instructed him. Laughing, he grabbed the two bags, tossed them into the car and got inside.

"You really know how to have fun, don't you, Giada?" he asked with a laugh as we pulled out of the lot.

I had never before driven in Gotham City, and I wasn't planning on it being easy, but I figured I'd have to at least try, especially since the Joker had driven all the way from Boston to Gotham.

"I hope you know how to get to where we're going, because I sure don't!" I exclaimed as I held tightly onto the wheel.

"I don't know where we're going—just surprise me!" he retorted with excitement.

"Oh what the fuck!" I exclaimed as I turned down a random side street, "I don't know how to drive this city!"

"Any side street is as good as any other, really," he responded as he licked his lips.

"Okay, then we'll stop…here," I said as I pulled down another side street and parked the car to the curb.

"Are you sure you don't know where you are?" he asked slyly.

"Yeah—I really am," I replied, irritated.

"Well…just over there is where Harvey Harvey Dent…shot you," he stated as he pointed down the ally. I stared hard down the ally. It was the ally where I as shot—where I was last in Gotham before Batman took me to the hospital and then sent me back home. I had parked us right there—which also meant we were right where the Joker lived. Perfect, I guess. A bittersweet memory, for sure.

We silently got out of the car and took the duffle bags down through the ally. Exhausted, we climbed up the familiar fire escape to the top of his building and fell inside his apartment. Leaving the duffle bags on the floor in the main room, we dragged ourselves into the bedroom and collapsed down on the bed. I closed my eyes and let myself sink deeply into the bed as the Joker lay motionless beside me. No doubt he was asleep already.

After a moment or two, I felt the bed jerk beneath me, waking me slightly, followed by a big purple jacket being draped over me.


	27. Lost Inside

27. Lost Inside

_Disclaimer: Thank you sooo much everyone who read and reviewed!! Sorry it's been a few days since my last update!! I love you all!! The lyrics I have at the beginning are not mine, they belong to Avril Lavigne—they basically state Giada in a nutshell, haha! _

_Her feelings she hides.  
Her dreams she can't find.  
She's losing her mind.  
She's fallen behind.  
She can't find her place.  
She's losing her faith.  
She's fallen from grace.  
She's all over the place._

Peanut oil, sweat and paint filled my nose. I opened my eyes and felt the Joker's jacket covering my body. I turned to my side in search for him, but he had already awoken. He did it again—he wanted me warm, so he placed his jacket over me to make sure I didn't get too cold.

Sitting up, I removed the jacket and wondered why it did smell like peanut oil. With no place to go, I hopped out of bed and wandered into the main living area. The Joker was no where to be found. I scanned the book shelf for the book with the photographs I had found previously. When I found it, I opened up the book and removed the images. Holding them in my hand, I studied them carefully.

The Joker looked remarkable in his military uniform. No one would ever guess from that image that _he_ is the Joker. The beautifully clear and smooth face that graced the photo all was but a shadow of who he now was. Without most of his make up on, he still seemed to look like the man in the photograph—with the dark eyes, full lips and sun kissed skin, but underneath it all, he was no longer the same man. I had never known Jack Napier the military man—I had only ever known the mass murdering criminal he had so desperately become—the Joker—Gotham's highest rate criminal.

And yet, for some reason, I was not sad he was no longer Jack Napier in uniform—I was completely content with him being the Joker—the alleged sociopath who stole my heart—the one person who could actually read who I really am.

"You just can't get enough of that photograph, can you, Giada?" the Joker asked suddenly as he emerged from the bathroom with just a towel about his waist. Damn it! I had forgotten to check the bathroom! My heart skipped a beat at his presence, mostly because I had not anticipated him being in the apartment at all. But as I looked up at him, I was taken back entirely by his appearance. He was clad in only a towel—he had clearly just taken a shower. But what struck me even more was that he wasn't wearing any face paint—at all. None. Zero. Not even a trace of face paint could be found on his face or in his eye crevices.

"Didn't mommy ever tell you it's rude to go through other peoples' things?" he asked as he walked over to me and took the photograph from my hand.

"I…I…" I was speechless. I didn't know what to say or how to react to his appearance—the Joker…wasn't the Joker. He was…a person, in the flesh…with a real face…and a real body…in daylight. Yes, I'd seen him naked before—but his face! It was…well, nothing was hiding it.

"Hm? What…what are you staring at?" he asked, licking his lips. He still had the same ticks without the make up.

"Well…I guess…it's just…well…I've never seen you without the face paint before," I said finally, standing to my feet. His eyes darted about the room quickly. He raised his hand and touched his face with the palm of his hand. Then, licking his lips, a smirk formed on his lips.

"And…what do you think?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I…I think you're rather handsome, actually," I stuttered, as I could feel my cheeks flush.

"Well, you know...I don't just go around _not_ wearing the face paint," he said awkwardly. Clearly he didn't just go around not wearing his face paint—if he did that, people would know who he is. I wondered if this was his odd way of saying I was special to him.

I just smiled back at him, "I like your face, Joker. Thank you for letting me see it," I stated.

"Well…wait a second," he said as he walked closer to me, "let's get rid of this then," he put his hand to my face and rubbed away the excess face paint.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, once he was done wiping the paint from my face.

"Uh, well, I was the one who got you painting your face again, remember? Well, you don't have to do that anymore, Giada—you get to be…well…you—again. And I, well…will paint my face again, like always—you—you didn't always paint your face when I met you. I…I liked that," I explained. I think it was his way of telling me he thought I was pretty.

"Well thank you, Joker. But, in case you've forgotten, you and I are a team now, and when we go out at night to take on Gotham and Batman, I'll paint my face o go along with you," I responded with a laugh.

"Well, of course!" he giggled in return, "This is going to be the fun we should have been having from the beginning, Giada!"

"Well, you finally got me, so be glad!" I exclaimed.

It was true—had had finally gotten me to join him. After all of our trials and experiences, it turned out he had been right all along. I had known it all along, but I didn't want to acknowledge that a man like him could read someone like me so well. I mean, would anyone really want to admit to themselves that an alleged psychopath knows them better than they know themselves? I don't think so—especially not a psychoanalyst!

At this point, I wasn't really sure where I belonged. Despite my hidden love for the Joker and my decision to join him, I still felt like I was losing my mind. Part of me was just incredulous that I'd even _consider_ joining him—and the fact I actually decided to do so, well, that was just a whole other plot of emotion and disturbances that made me feel lost inside.

Through all of the mental and emotional confusion, no matter how broken I felt inside, there only remained one constant—one fact I knew for sure, and that was my unconditional love for the Joker. I'd fallen so far from grace at this point, nothing I had dreamt of before this even matter anymore. I had chosen my side and I was going to stick with it.

I'd just be lost inside. I'd be lost inside until the Joker could finally set me free—finally tell me how he really feels—that I was able to break through his hard outer shell—that I could be the one person on this planet he could find he has emotions for.

This had been my goal all along, and I finally felt I was making progress. First it was coming out to Boston to rescue me; then it was the purple jacket; now it was showing me his face with no face paint on it. I couldn't help but feel I was headed in the right direction despite how lost I felt whenever I wasn't with him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Mr. Wayne," Alfred addressed Bruce.

"What is it, Alfred?"

"The Joker's back in Gotham," Alfred responded.

"How? How did he make it all the way back here from Boston? Do you think he has Giada with him?" Bruce asked.

"That I'm not so sure about, Mr. Wayne, but I'm sure he does have Ms. DiMarco with him," Alfred replied.

"How could that murdering psychopath escape Boston and make it all the way back here?" Bruce questioned himself.

"Perhaps the Joker's a man you don't fully understand—perhaps Miss DiMarco is a woman you don't fully understand either," Alfred explained.

"How long do you suppose he's been back? If he's been here a while, all's been pretty quiet—no signs of him on the streets at night," Bruce explained.

"This is quite so, Mr. Wayne—but a few days ago, a stolen car was found parked in an ally in downtown. Apparently the GPD have been suspecting it's linked to the Joker, but since no one's actually seen him, they can't confirm anything," Alfred stated.

"Of course it is! This is just the sort of thing he'd do—he'd wait for me to come after him. He'd leave that car there for us the find and have me go after him," Bruce explained.

"And if you _do_ go after him, Mr. Wayne, what of Miss DiMarco?" Alfred asked.

"I save her—what else can I do? The man is obsessed with her—in time, he'll undoubtedly kill her—if he hasn't already—he has no remorse," Bruce said.

"Then you must rescue her, Mr. Wayne—if that's what you feel needs to happen," Alfred responded.

"Of course it does—it's the right thing to do," Bruce said.

"And the Joker?" Alfred asked.

"Dead," Bruce replied.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The Joker and I spent the day in his apartment doing an assortment of things that included sex in his shower, sex in the living room and sex in the bedroom. It appeared we were both terribly depraved of one another, and I was of course, glad to oblige. We had no place to go, no place to be. Our plan to find Batman was well…not really a plan, just something we figured would happen eventually.

That night, we remained sprawled on his bed, paint on our faces, and fully clothed. I glanced over at the Joker, who clutched a knife in his hand. He seemed pretty lost in thought just lying beside me on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Joker," I said finally.

"Hm?" he responded, slightly turning his head to me.

"I think I'm lost inside," I said finally.

"Then you've finally made it to where I live every day," he responded flatly.

"Well that's just it—I've been lost the whole time," I replied/

"I know," he stated, licking his lips, "I know—that's why I found you,"

"Where's Batman?" I asked.

"Coming," he responded.

"How can you be so sure?" I inquired, narrowing my eyes to him playfully. He turned his head and cracked a wide smile.

"Because he's just as lost inside as we are," he replied with a sly smile. He and I exchanged smiles and then soon we both erupted into laughter. It was true—Batman was just as lost as the Joker was and just as lost as I was.

Now I could see the funny side—now I too was always laughing.


	28. Pixie Dust

28. Pixie Dust

_Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of the DC characters created to go along with it. I have created my own characters though and I do own them—some of them may seem to represent real-life representations of other Batman characters though, but I will not say who I am introducing in this chapter just yet! You'll just have to read…hehehehe_

When the Batman never came, the Joker decided to take it upon himself to find him.

"Well can't I come with you?" I asked, following him over to the window by the fire escape.

"No—not tonight," he said finally.

"Well why not? I thought we were a team!" I retaliated.

"We…_are_. Giada, look, listen—the Batman is out to find…you. If he does, then, well, we have a problem. You—need to stay here until I can figure out his whereabouts," the Joker explained.

"Alright. Well, then, I'll be going out myself. You can find Batman…and I'll…go do something else. I'm tired of staying put here! I want to get out and wreak havoc on Gotham!" I exclaimed.

"In time, my love; in time," he said as he slid his gloved hand down my face. He paused for a moment and then escaped through the window.

What the fuck was his deal?! He left me in the apartment to sit idly while _he_ goes and searched for Batman. We were supposed to be partners—a team! Why did he recruit me in the first place?! I was furious. I could feel my blood boiling. I walked into the bathroom and touched up my face paint.

"Come on Jade, let's get out there and find Batman for ourselves," I said aloud to myself as I gazed into the mirror. I glanced down and saw the peeler on the bathroom sink. I picked it up and placed it into my jacket pocket. I was the perfect harlequin to find the Batman.

I took a last moment to gaze at myself in the mirror. My make up was perfect. My costume was the costume I wore at the Jokers Wild—black and red corset underneath my black tailed overcoat, complete with various red shaped diamonds patched onto it. The pants, both ripped, one red, just past my knee and the other black, just above my knee, fit just as they should, snugly, but not too tight so that I couldn't move. My red lips smiled back at me in satisfaction. I slipped my red glove onto my left hand and the black glove onto my right hand.

I was ready. I slid out the window and down the fire escape to the ground below. I stealthily slid through the back allies of downtown Gotham, keeping a watchful eye out for Batman. He always seemed to pop up uninvited and unnoticed. I would not be taken by surprise tonight!

I just hoped I didn't run into the Joker while on my mission—he'd probably be angry with me for going out against his wishes. Oh well. He couldn't control my life. I was sure if I found Batman before he did and captured him, he would _have_ to be pleased with me—pleased with me for going out and proving I could function as a high rate criminal on my own.

Maybe I'd steal a few things while I was out anyway. Giggling to myself, I tip toed through a few more allies until I reached an ATM.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As the night went on, I somehow was successful in stealing ATM money. I'm not too sure how I managed to hack into the machine, but I did it. Maybe it was all the technical and mechanical talk the Joker had managed to impose on me during our various talks. He was so good at getting me to listen to him talk, even if it was about something I didn't find interesting—he managed to unconsciously filter his technical knowledge into me and I don't even know how he did it! He truly was a criminal mastermind.

I hit up every ATM downtown I could find until I decided I'd hit up midtown and uptown. But when I got there, all of the ATMs had been stolen from; an odd crime to have two criminals performing on the same night. It couldn't possibly be the Joker robbing ATMs in uptown and midtown. Also, there were traces of powder on each ATM machine. I thought it odd for someone to snort cocaine in an ATM and then rob it, so I figured I had enough fun with money for one night. I slipped down a private ally to count my cash.

"100, 200, 300, 400, 500, 600…" I counted the hundred dollar bills in my hand.

"So _you're_ the downtown ATM robber!" a voice exclaimed from behind me. I put the cash into my jacket pocket and spun around. A woman was standing there, clad all in green; dark green leggings with a light green body suit. Over the suit, she wore an oversized white button down shirt. She wore a black mask over her eyes and stood in front of me, incredulous that I would steal from her downtown ATM machines.

"Uh, yeah. I was bored," I responded, "who the fuck are you?"

"I think the better question is, who are _you_?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and shifting her weight to the other leg. Jesus, she was thin, but with curves in all the right places. It was no secret why she dressed the way she did—she had fabulous legs! I was jealous. She was taller than me by probably three or so inches, but I chose to not feel intimidated by her. She kind of reminded me of Matilda back at the Jokers Wild in Boston.

Licking my lips, I approached her slowly, "I'm Jade. And who are you?"

"They call me Pixie Dust," she responded.

"Oh, so you're the crack whore leaving traces of that shit at every ATM I've been to uptown," I responded flatly.

"Cocaine? No, I don't use that shit. It's a special dust I've created from botanicals that allows me to cover up my prints—so I can never get caught," she explained.

Brilliant! But what the hell was a plant scientist doing robbing ATMs?

"So what's a little harlequin like you doing robbing banks?" Pixie Dust asked me.

"Uh, I told you—I was bored," I responded.

"I see how it is. You really should find yourself a man, Jade," she stated, leaning against the building opposite mine.

"Excuse me?" I asked. This woman was just too much! I hated her already.

"You heard me—find yourself a man and you won't be so bored at night that you have to go rob ATM machines," she stated.

"And the same could be said for you," I responded.

"I've got my eye set on one already. I'm just trying to catch his attention," she responded.

"Oh—the Batman?" I asked with a laugh, "He's about the only one who'll notice someone's been robbing every ATM in Gotham city!"

"No—not the Batman—someone else with more criminal power," she replied. My heart nearly exploded. She obviously meant the Joker. Who else in this city held more criminal power than the Joker?! My hands clenched themselves into fists as my blood began to boil.

"Oh, so then which criminal would that be?" I asked, trying not to sound threatened.

"Salvatore Maroni," she replied nonchalantly. My heart immediately stopped racing.

"Oh him?" I asked, feeling a smile escape onto my lips.

"Yeah, him. Why are you smiling?" she asked.

"No reason. You must be new to Gotham," I said finally.

"Yeah, a little. But I've heard of Salvatore Maroni for quite some time and from what I've gathered, he's the biggest mob boss in this city. All I need is to capture his attention and I'm all set," she explained.

"Right. Well good luck in doing that!" I said as I turned to leave.

"Where you going?" Pixie asked.

"To rob something other than an ATM," I responded flatly.

"Well, I'll see you around, Jade," she called back to me, almost in a mockery.

"Yeah, see you around!" I called back to her. I rolled my eyes and left the ally, this time in search of Batman.

How dare that Pixie chick even _consider_ that Salvatore Maroni was the biggest crime boss in Gotham! Had she really never heard of the Joker?! I was appalled. But I guess at the same time, I was a bit relieved that she didn't know him or else she'd _definitely _try to get with him. I would have none of that. What a bitch.

I wandered down a couple of allies, in search of Batman, but soon grew tired, and a bit anxious. I felt I had been literally, all over Gotham, and I had not even come close to running into my beloved Joker. Where could he possibly be? Maybe he was meeting with the other mobsters. I bet that's where he was! That's probably the real reason he didn't want me tagging along with him. What a bitch.

I slid down a side ally and decided to haphazardly count my money again, just for no real reason.

"100, 200, 300, 400, 500, 600…" I counted aloud to myself. Suddenly, I heard a bit of a commotion from down the ally. I shoved the money back into my coat pocket and clutched the peeler in my hand in case I needed to defend myself.

Then, from out of the darkness of the ally emerged Salvatore Maroni, the Chechen, the Joker and…that Pixie chick. My heart exploded and my blood reached boiling point on instant.

"Hey, it's Jade!" Pixie said aloud with a laugh as she pointed to me. The four of them approached me and I simply clutched the peeler in my hand tightly.

"Who?" Salvatore asked Pixie as they came closer.

"Jade! I met her a little while ago in an ally uptown," Pixie explained, batting her eyelashes at the men. I wanted to gag. The Joker just licked his lips and approached me.

"_Jade_, what are you doing?" he asked in a lowered voice.

"Me? What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Jade—this is the Joker," Pixie said, acting as though she'd known him all her life.

"Yeah, I got that. We know each other—quite well actually," I snapped back at her.

"Oh right—you're both clowns…of the sort," she responded. I wanted to cut her face. She deserved it.

"I wanted to get out…and you know…see the city," I replied to the Joker.

"And I ran into these…citizens," he responded, gesturing to the two men and one woman behind him.

"Look, Joker, are we going to discuss business or are we going to chat it up with your girlfriend here?" Salvatore asked impatiently.

"Just a minute here…Maroni," the Joker said, licking his lips.

"He can talk to you like that?" I could hear Pixie ask Maroni.

Maroni shrugged his shoulders and paused a moment before responding, "The Joker calls the shots in this town,"

Fuck. I was fucked. This Pixie chick now knew the Joker was the man to get—not Maroni. The battle was on.

"Giada, look, I know the…uh…Batman is out. You _really_ need to head back. I'll be back within the hour—it won't take long to discuss…business," the Joker said to me quietly.

"Uh huh," I responded, crossing my arms in front of my chest, "Yup,"

"I'm being…serious," he said finally.

"Yeah, well how about you put a smile on that face," I replied, showed him the peeler and then ran from the ally. I really didn't know what else to do. I was so angry I would have cut them all, including the Joker. I _really_ wanted to find Batman now—to prove to them all that I could work on my own—and to let that Pixie Dust woman know that I was the Joker's woman.


	29. The Jade Pendant

29. The Jade Pendant

_Disclaimer: Hey all! So sorry it's taken me forever to update—crazy busy/stress, but here you go! Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Yes, Pixie is a bitch and we all love to hate her hahaha! My love to all of you lovely readers and reviewers!! _

I ran and ran until I was back where I started—just outside the Joker's apartment. How the hell did I end up back here?! I clutched the peeler in my hand with every ounce of force I had in me. I wanted to find Batman. I kept looking up into the night sky, at the various building tops and the fire escapes. Batman was truly nowhere to be found. Maybe he _wasn't_ out tonight. Maybe he was but the Joker would never find him because Batman knew the Joker was looking for him.

I turned around. Tonight was not the night for the showdown. No—there would be no fighting tonight and I think Batman knew this—in fact, he anticipated this. I would have to go back up to the apartment and play the role of stupid, obedient Giada. As I climbed up the fire escape, a plan was formulating in my head. The Joker was doing business behind my back that was currently including this Pixie bitch. I would have to do business on my own—perhaps even _with _Batman if possible. I would have to wait it out for a few days—maybe even weeks, before I could make my mark—prove to everyone I was a worthy and intelligent criminal. The only way I could do this would be to capture Batman _and_ the Joker—I would catch _everyone_ off guard. Getting my beloved Joker to do something for me would be the easy part—but getting Batman—that would be the challenge. Oh, and I'd probably have to kill Pixie Dust as well—especially if she even dares to touch the Joker.

I slid back into the apartment and lit the candles. I wandered through the apartment to the bathroom so to remove my makeup. As I passed by the bedroom, from the corner of my eye, I saw a figure sitting on the bed. I did a double-take as I backed up to get a better look into the room. Seeing the man sitting on the bed, I just stood in the hallway. The Joker was sitting on the bed with his gloved hands clasped and sitting in his lap. When he noticed me, he lifted his head and released his hands from their grasp. He motioned for me to go over to him with just a single finger. My heart skipped a beat and began pounding as I moved slowly into the room. I was sure he was going to kill me—if not kill me, definitely cut me. Oh well. It was what I was there for, I guess; what I had gotten myself into.

I stood in front of him, but not close enough for him to reach out and grab me; I wasn't _that_ stupid. He shook his head suddenly.

"No, no—I said come _here_," he said as he pointed to the ground directly in front of him. I took in a deep breath and swallowed the spit that was forming in my mouth.

"Technically, you didn't _say_ anything," I responded. Stupid idiot! A mass murdering clown summoned me to him and I am back-talking to him! Oh, I really _am_ that stupid. Realizing he wasn't going to respond, I approached him ever so slowly and with caution.

The instant I was close enough to him, he reached out and grabbed my wrists and pulled me close to him and wedged me in between his legs.

"Giada—you look nervous? Why should you be nervous? Have I ever given you reason to be nervous?" he asked as I squirmed to free myself from his forceful grasp.

"No, but you're a…high rate criminal…who kills readily…and as far as I know…disobeyed you this…evening," I explained as I continued to struggle for my freedom.

"Disobeyed me? Did I give you orders?" he asked calmly, tilting his head to the side, almost in mockery. "Oh, you know what? I think I did mention something to you about staying put…here…but it was made very clear to me my wishes for you were not…of interest,"

"I want to help you…Joker—I don't feel I can do that effectively while…here," I stated, still trying to free my wrists.

"I see—and how right you are. And believe me, Giada, you _will _help me—I'm a man of my word—but what I say something regarding your safety, you…must listen, hm?" he responded, holding onto me a little bit tighter. Damn he was strong! He showed such little effort in restraining me too!

"What are you, my father?" I asked, a bit irritated, "do you think you're my protector?"

"I am here to make sure the Batman doesn't find you, Giadaaa," he stated flatly.

"Well, I hate to break this news to you baby doll, but, I'm a big girl now and I can fend for myself," I sneered at him, this time with my face directly in his.

"A big girl, hm? Well then let's act like one then," he responded as he loosened his grip on my wrists. I quickly removed my right hand and slapped him across the face. He started laughing as he pulled me on top of him.

"That's what I'm talking about," he giggled. I slapped him across the face again as he began removing my clothes. He kissed my neck as he wrapped his arms completely around me.

"Promise me you'll include me on your planning from now on," I said.

"Planning? I promise you everything," he responded as he continued kissing me.

The night turned into heated sex—as usual, followed by deep slumber. I had fallen off to sleep, but the Joker remained restless. I could feel him tossing and turning every now and then when I woke. He turned over on his side and woke me again, accidentally, of course. My eye flew open to see him staring back at me.

"I'm so sorry, Giada—I didn't mean to wake you," he stuttered suddenly as he sat up. I sat up and placed my hand on his back.

"It's okay. Are you alright?" I asked, trying to catch his eyes again.

He just glanced over at me nervously for a moment and then stared back at the bedding in front of him. He opened his mouth as though to say something, but then shut it. Licking his lips, he glanced over at me again and then removed himself from the bed.

"Where are you going?" I asked, "is everything okay?"

He went out into the hall and rustled through a bunch of things for a few minutes. I decided to stay put. I rested my head back down on the pillow while I continued hearing the shuffle of books, boxes and papers from beyond the doorway.

Finally, after what felt like eons, the Joker emerged from the hallway with something in hand.

"Giada," he whispered loudly as he climbed back into the bed. I rolled over and sat up.

"What is it? Is everything alright?" I asked finally, hoping to get a real answer this time.

"Yes—well, Giada," he gulped and then licked his lips, "sometimes, more often than not, you…well…do things...that are…well," he licked his lips again, "feeling,"

"Yes?" I asked, not really sure where he was going with this.

"Well…sometimes, more often than not…when you are with me…" he licked his lips some more and glanced down at his hand, "see, I want you safe—and well, with me all the time, so…I here—I want you to have this," he said as he presented to me the thing in his hand.

"What is it?" I asked, not able to really see the object.

"It's…a jade pendant—because your name means Jade in Italian," he responded, licking his lips nervously.

"That's very…thank you very much. I love it," I replied as he placed the chain and pendant around my neck.

"I…do too," he stated anxiously as he quickly turned back over onto his side. I floated my body back down to the bed and took hold of the pendant in my hand. It was smooth and oval shaped. This was his way of saying he loved me—I just knew it. He just doesn't know how to say it. He had to show me. I turned over on my side and kept the pendant in my hand as I closed my eyes. From behind me, I could hear the Joker snoring softly—he was finally in a restful repose.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"In about an hour, Maroni and his men are holding a meeting," the Joker stated the following evening as he tied his tie in front of the mirror.

"Fantastic—and I assume you're going," I replied, sitting on the bed, watching him.

"Right you are, my little harlequin!" he exclaimed with a giggle as he turned around and kissed me.

"And that would mean I'm attending as well," I replied once he was standing again.

"Giada, see…no," he stated as he buttoned his vest and then put on his jacket.

"What?! You told me last night I could go with you! We're a team, remember?" I restated firmly.

"Yes…we're—a team—but tonight is…well…"

"I don't care what tonight is or isn't—if we're in this together and if I am to help you, I need to be able to go with you to these meetings—especially if they are in regards to Batman," I replied.

"As I've stated—the Batman is looking for you,"

"And if he knows anything at all, he'll know to find me here," I protested.

"If that were true, he would have found you already," the Joker retorted.

I paused for a moment and licked my lips, "Is Pixie Dust going to this meeting? From what I understand she's Salvatore Maroni's catch,"

"Pixie Dust?" he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"That chick—you know, from last night,"

"Oh that green skinny thing. Probably—she's got some kind of dust made from botanicals that—"

"That erase finger prints—I know. I met her too," I snapped back.

"Ohh not just finger prints, dear—but other things too," the Joker responded.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like…memory," the Joker stated.

"That's horrible! If you erase someone's memory what's left of the person?!" I exclaimed.

"Exactly!" the Joker giggled.

"No—that's not fair—it's just not right!" I exclaimed, "you can't go! Don't let her go! Don't let her use that faerie dust!"

"It's the perfect weapon against Gotham City," the Joker explained.

"Yes, and then Batman? Please Joker, you can't be serious,"

"Serious? Who ever said I was serious?" he asked with a laugh.

"This is insane. Please, for the sake of humanity—do not let her use that dust," I stated with all seriousness.

"She doesn't have it with her—it is something she can create—and when the time is right, we'll ask her to do so," the Joker replied.

I sat there in awe. Not only was this the worst idea in the history of the world, but I felt useless and powerless. I couldn't offer these criminals anything. This Pixie bitch came into the Gotham with her plants and captured the attention of Gotham's most infamous criminal and I was there, presenting them with nothing. I had nothing to offer and nothing to make them want to change their minds. I looked back at him and thought quickly. I did have one thing that maybe would make him change his mind or at least think twice.

"Last night you gave me this, remember?" I asked, holding up the pendant from my neckline.

"Yes," he responded, getting a bit nervous. A soft smile crossed my lips.

"Well, just to let you know, whatever this means to you, I understand that…feeling…quite well actually, and if something such as a memory expulsion dust ever got near either you or I, this…feeling…would be lost—forever," I explained. He licked his lips and blinked his eyes a couple of times.

"I have to go," he stated finally.

"Of course you do. Make some good decisions," I replied, "not that I doubt your ability to do so. Like you've told me so many times before—we have psychology on our side—we can talk anyone into anything,"

He turned to leave, but stopped. He turned around, approached me still sitting on the bed, learned down and kissed me. He pulled away and then left.

I waited several minutes until I knew he was gone before I began putting on my costume. I knew now that with the jade pendant, I had the courage and capability of reaching depths of feeling with him that I didn't think were possible before this. I would go out on the city tonight and I would try and find Batman again—but most importantly, I would try and find this meeting location and gather as much information in a most clandestine manner. I was, after all, a harlequin of the times.


	30. Ahead of the Curve

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30. Ahead of the Curve

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_Disclaimer: Many, many, many, MANY thanks to you all reading and/or reviewing! I love you all and I have missed updating and writing this story!!!!! So glad you liked the chapter! I hope this one pleases you also ___

The night was darker than usual. It seemed there were fewer lights illuminating the streets. Perhaps it was my makeup that inhibited my vision. No, it couldn't be. My makeup was pristine. My appearance as a whole was pristine, lest I run into a certain Pixie Dust in my travels. There should be no reason she should capture the attention of my Joker with her long legs and slender tall frame. There would be none of that. I would do my best to be the one his eye is attracted to.

As I walked relatively aimlessly down the side streets of Gotham, I noticed a chill run up and down my spine. I quickly turned around to see if there was someone following me, but no one was there. The wind blew coldly against my face. I had almost forgotten it was November. That would explain the chill. I wondered if the Joker and I would celebrate Thanksgiving—it had to be only a week away or so.

What a stupid thought. Why would we celebrate Thanksgiving? What did we have to be thankful for? I guess I was somewhat thankful for the Joker; he made me realize many things about myself—but what of the other aspects of my life? I upped and left my home without any word at all. For that I was certainly not thankful. I was ashamed. I wasn't all that thankful for the arrival Pixie Dust—in fact, I was pissed. That bitch was going down.

"Oh look! A little harlequin!" exclaimed a voice from behind that made me cringe.

"Oh look! A pixie!" I mocked in return as I turned around to see her standing against the wall of a building. She was clad in her usual attire—green leggings and an over-sized button down shirt.

"Have you seen the Joker? I've been lookin' for him all night," Pixie stated as she lit up a cigarette.

I chuckled and pursed my lips together. Finally, I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, "Nah, I have no idea where he is. Beats me!"

"Yeah I figured you'd be of no help—no offense," she responded.

"None taken," I said with clenched teeth.

"It's just, you don't really strike me as a girl who really has the need for a guy like him and therefore would be negligent in the knowledge of the location of said man," she replied.

I laughed once more at her crazy antics, almost in disbelief. Maybe this warped thought of hers was exactly what she needed to keep on believing—that way, when she found out how wrong she was, in her stupor, I could cut the bitch.

"Well, you certainly have got me all figured out, haven't you!" I responded, still chuckling.

"You're not that difficult to read, Jade," she stated with a grin.

"Yeah—I know. Well it's been nice talking to you…Pixie. I must be off!"

"Oh, where you goin'?" she asked.

"To get a burger," I responded flatly.

"Oh I can't eat any of that crap—gotta watch my figure, you know!" she giggled.

"Yeah," I turned to leave.

"If you run into Mr. J, let him know I'm lookin' for him, will ya?" she called after me.

"You bet!" I exclaimed as I turned the corner.

_The nerve of that wench! She honestly thought I had no affiliation with the Joker—and she believes that she will be able to take up sides with my Joker! The likes of that! I'll show her—I'll show her exactly what she's got coming to her—that I'm Mr. J's and no one else is. She can't call him Mr. J! Only I can do that,_ I thought to myself as I wandered through the back alleys. Feeling my blood begin to simmer, I decided to sit down on the pavement and just cool off. I shut my eyes and leaned my head back on the building.

"You look tired, Jade," a voice said. My eyes flew open. The Batman. I jumped to my feet as quickly as possible.

"Nope, not really!" I responded.

"Where's the Joker?" he asked.

"What is with you people!? Why does everyone assume I know where the Joker is?!" I exclaimed in frustration only because of Pixie asking the same thing.

"I'll assume you either don't know either or won't give up his location," the Batman responded.

"No," I said finally, "No, I don't know where he is—he won't tell me where he goes,"

"Aren't you supposed to be his henchwoman?" Batman asked.

"I don't even know anymore," I sighed, feeling a bit dejected. I just knew Pixie was going to find him and try to seduce him with her stupid plant dust bullshit.

"I take it you are no longer an asset to the Joker," Batman stated.

"No, that's not true—I am still an asset to him—he just doesn't need me right now for whatever he's doing," I replied.

"So…you're just walking around Gotham until he's done and then you'll go home?" Batman asked, I think a bit confused.

"Technically, he doesn't really want me out and about but he can fuck himself if he thinks I'm going to stay put all night indoors while he's out and about doing God knows what!" I exclaimed.

"I see. So right now, his main need for you is met after dark when he comes back indoors," the Batman stated.

"No, I'm not just some fuck toy, if that's what you're getting at," I corrected him, "I know you won't believe it, but the Joker actually tries to demonstrate feelings through various gestures of kindness. No one would believe it, but he actually shows me he cares for me in way that are of a nonverbal nature," I explained, almost slipping into my educated mindset that I had once done so readily for Bruce Wayne.

"Despite what I believe of the Joker, it sounds like you've got a pretty good…analysis…on his behavior," the Batman replied.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that—I mean, it's what I do—I write analyses," I stated.

"Is that so? How did you end up in the criminal business then?" the Batman asked.

"Well, to put it simply—I fell in love," I responded. I paused for a moment and really thought about that statement. I fell in love with the Joker and readily gave up my educated professional life-style. I really was crazy; and now there I was, talking to the Batman like he was an old friend and not my enemy, about my life choices.

"That's…interesting. You sound like someone else I know—her name is Giada DiMarco. I asked her if she could help out the GPD in writing an analysis of the Joker," the Batman said, somewhat slowly. My heart sank. He didn't know it was me. I should have guessed. He had never seen me as Jade—with all the face paint and what not. Should I tell the Batman that I am Giada? Maybe I could gain his trust that way…

Maybe if I told him and the Joker found out he would really kill me. That would be horrible. But then again, he told me he'd never kill me. It would be a chance I'd have to take, because if I could befriend Batman, I could get him for the Joker and then the Joker would be so pleased with me he wouldn't even know what to do! And that would complete rule out Pixie.

"Giada DiMarco, huh," I responded.

"Yes—do you know her?" Batman asked.

I paused for a moment and licked my lips.

"Well…"

"Jade! I have been searching all over this damn town for that Joker!" Pixie exclaimed suddenly.

"Damnit Pixie! I told you I don't know where he is!" I exclaimed in frustration. She had just interrupted something important.

"Batman!" she shrieked finally and then ran from our sight.

"Thank God—I can't stand that bitch!" I exclaimed.

"I can tell," Batman responded. He paused for a moment then spoke again, "it looks as though she's after your Joker—how does that make you feel, Jade?"

"Oh it's just great—I know he won't go for her. She's not his type—too botanical…not enough clown," I responded sarcastically. The Batman laughed at my comment. I was taken back by his laugh. I did not expect him to laugh at something I'd said. I smiled back at him.

"Like I was saying before, Giada DiMarco—yeah I know her," I replied.

"Is she a friend of yours? Last I heard she was back at home in Boston," Batman stated.

"Well…I am her," I said finally. Batman remained silent.

"You _are_ her," he repeated finally.

"Yes—and I feel so horribly for the things I've done, but please understand that I have fallen so hard for the Joker—he's been able to reach me like no one else I've ever known and he's been able to show me who _he_ really is too. I just don't know if I could ever face Bruce Wayne again—he had offered me such a wonderful opportunity and I really fucked it up. I owe him so much," I explained in all seriousness. The Batman was quiet for several moments.

"I understand if you can't condone being friendly with me—I am, after all, allied with the 'bad guys'," I said, using quotes.

"No, I think you're good willed and good intentioned, Giada. You've just gone astray a bit, but if this is the life you feel you need and want, then I can't judge you for that," Batman said finally.

"Thank you," I responded.

"As for Bruce Wayne—I think he'd surprise you—he's just as lost as you are," Batman replied.

"Really? How so?" I asked, eager to learn more.

"I can't say exactly," the Batman said, "but I have to go. Please, take care, Giada," he said as he turned and fled from the alley.

I was so confused, but I felt a bit better. I was gaining status with Batman. He obviously hated the Joker but as long as I could stay on his good side, I would have one up on the Joker and every other mobster. This would certainly put me back on the crime map as someone who has insider information and thus and quintessential part of the planning process. I was officially ahead of the curve!

I turned to leave and head back to the Joker's apartment. I was feeling pretty excited and light headed with adrenaline that I just made headway with the Batman behind everyone's backs. Whether they knew or not didn't bother me.

I turned a corner and went into another back ally when I suddenly stopped in my tracks. The Joker was talking with Pixie Dust. Laughing, she placed her hand on his chest in a flirtatious manner. My hands began to tingle and my head began to feel light. Dots started appearing before my eyes and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly reached into my pocket and grabbed onto the Joker's knife. Suddenly, Pixie turned her head and saw me.

"Jade? What are you doing here?" she called over to me. The Joker's gaze softened immediately as he turned towards me. I think he saw the fury building within me and he ran over to me.

"Giada, you're freezing," he said softly into my ear. I saw Pixie's gaze on the two of us narrow into eyes of jealousy.

"I'm sure she's fine—all of those layers of clothing," Pixie responded as she walked over to us.

I was still clenching my fists tightly onto the peeler knife. The dots in my vision grew larger and soon things turned blurry.

"Giada? Can you hear me?" the Joker asked. He glanced down ad saw my hands in my pockets were trembling.

"I…I…can't breathe," I said finally as I collapsed into his arms. He gently scooped me up into his arms.

"Giada, wake up," he said as he rocked and shook me back and forth.

"Looks like she's out cold," Pixie stated with a small laugh.

"Laugh some more and I'll cut that smile permanently into your face," he said curtly as he flashed her eyes of death. In that moment, Pixie knew the Joker had feelings for me and I was now officially competition that needed to be removed from her path in getting to the Joker. The Joker turned and left the ally, still carrying me in his arms.


	31. Diva

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31. Diva

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When I awoke, I was alone, in the dark, lying on the Joker's bed. I sat up and glanced around the room. I scanned it around once and then back again. When I scanned it the second time, my heart stopped as the Joker appeared in the door way, almost from out of no where. He stood there for a moment with his hand on the frame of the door way before walking into the room. I felt so stupid for fainting like that in front of Pixie and him—I was so embarrassed.

"I am so sorry for fainting like that—I think the cold just got to me," I stated finally.

"When are you going to listen to me, Giada? I tell you not to go out at night and you do anyway," the Joker responded flatly.

"I can't just stay cooped up in here every night like some house wife! I thought I was your partner in crime! I can't do much just sitting around," I explained, "I'm meant to do so much more than sit around, sorry,"

"It's not the point; you _are_ meant to do more—just not right now," the Joker stated, licking his lips and raising his eyebrow.

"So then let's get on with it. I want to help you—and I can much more effective than that fucking Pixie whore," I responded with clenched teeth. The Joker erupted in laughter.

"She's nothing! She's got nothing on you, it's just she's got something we need here in Gotham, and I'm going to make sure we get it," the Joker replied with a grin.

"Well don't let her near me or I'll fuckin' cut her face," I replied, "she's getting all up in my space and I can't take it,"

"Oh Giada, you have to learn to work with others and then…once you get what you want…eliminate them from the picture…_completely_," the Joker explained, narrowing his eyes. My heart jumped. Was he only using me? Was he going to dispose of me when he was done with me? I almost threw up in my mouth.

"Is that what you plan on doing with me, Mr. J?" I asked, narrowing my eye finally. He exploded into laughter once again.

"Giada! I would never dispose of you! You…you're like the Batman to me," he responded. I cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm like the Batman to you? What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"You complete me," he responded finally.

"Oh I see," I said with a small smile forming at my lips.

"Speaking of the Batman," the Joker said, flashing me his deep brown eyes covered in black paint.

"What of the Batman?" I asked, swallowing the spit forming in my mouth.

"You've been conversing with…the Batman," he said, pursing his lips together and then licking them.

"If by conversing with him you mean that I ran into him and had a brief conversation," I responded.

"Pixie Dust told me she saw you with him," the Joker replied, sliding closer to me on the bed.

"Yeah—for the amount of time she saw us talking was probably no longer than 5 minutes!" I exclaimed.

"So you were talking with him for longer than 5 minutes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It was nothing, really. I'm just trying to get an insider's view on Batman—you know, to help you," I replied.

"I don't want you conspiring with….the Batman," he sighed.

"I'm not conspiring with the Batman—I'm just trying to help you—"

"I don't need help with the Bat," the Joker snapped back. Taken back by his response, I remained quiet for a minute.

"Fine," I replied finally, standing to my feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out," I responded flatly. The Joker jumped to his feet and pinned me up against the wall.

"Think again," he stated, holding me by the wrists to the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I shrieked, squirming in his grasp. I always forgot just how strong he actually was. For being a tall skinny guy, he was strong!

"Keeping you here," he replied with a quick grin.

"And I told you I'm going out!" I exclaimed.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked, practically whispering into my ear.

"To buy a turkey! It's almost Thanksgiving," I retorted, still squirming in his grasp. Laughing, he finally let go of me.

"What's so funny?" I asked, holding my wrist.

"Thanksgiving—what's there to give thanks for?" he asked while laughing.

"I always thought of it as an excuse to eat a shit ton of food. And besides, it's Thanksgiving! Who doesn't love a Thanksgiving feast?!" I replied, still rubbing my wrists. I really hadn't planned on getting a turkey; I just needed an excuse to leave the apartment.

"No—no turkey—no Thanksgiving," the Joker managed to say through laughter.

"I still don't see why it's so funny," I stated.

"To me…everything's funny!" he laughed, nearly in tears.

"Right. Okay, well I'm gonna head on out and get that turkey anyway and see if you change your mind," I said as I inched towards the doorway. Before I could get there, the Joker sprang back up from his laughter fit and grabbed a hold of my wrist.

"Will you stop that?! You hurt me when you grab me like that!" I exclaimed.

"You might want to stop trying to leave," he replied.

"Oh hell no," I muttered as I slapped him right across the face with my free hand. I then kneed him in the groin and ran from the room, into the kitchen and out the window. No one fucks with me like that, not even my beloved Joker.

Man, what a shitty night! That Pixie bitch ruined everything. If she hadn't come to town, the Joker and I would probably be making love right now; but no, I was climbing down the fire escape.

"He's fucking crazy, but I'm just as crazy. He doesn't love me and I love him and he laughs at Thanksgiving—I just don't get what's so funny—it's just a turkey! Maybe he was laughing at stuffing a turkey…nah—he doesn't seem like the type to make jokes like that; then again, he _is_ the Joker. What the fuck is his deal. If that bitch never came to Gotham I wouldn't be dealing with this shit," I muttered to myself as I walked through the alleys.

By the time I got to uptown, I was freezing, tired and depressed. I had no reason to leave the apartment except that the Joker was going off crazier than usual. He was so irritating sometimes! No grocery store was open for me to even buy a turkey—then again, I had no money and I had no means of stealing any. I was lost, so I went into an alley and sat down. I rubbed my semi-gloved hands together and blew into them. I was absolutely frigid.

"Fuck this weather," I sighed finally, glancing up at the sky. Suddenly, from down the alley, I heard some banging. I stood to my feet and grabbed onto my peeler. I could feel the adrenaline moving through my veins. I was ready to fuck up anyone who would cross my path, especially Pixie Dust. I almost hoped it was her so that I could fuck her up. I took the peeler from my pocket and popped up the blade. I was ready.

A dark figure emerged from the depths of the alley. The Bat.

"You again!" I exclaimed, putting the blade away.

"The same could be said for you. Where's the Joker?" the Batman asked.

"Home," I replied.

"Not with the mob? I find that hard to believe," Batman responded.

"Well, I could give you the address, but that's not happening," I stated.

"Fair enough. Why are you out here alone without him?" Batman asked.

"He's acting crazier than usual," I responded, sounding almost exactly like the Joker himself.

"Right," Batman stated as he pursed his lips.

"It's so damn cold out here," I said finally.

"Well, you could always go back home to your crazier than normal boyfriend," Batman replied sarcastically.

"Okay, two things: one, as much as I'd love for it to be true, he's not my boyfriend; two, I'm just as crazy as him so I guess you could call me crazier than normal," I replied.

"You're not crazy, Jade—the Joker's crazy," Batman explained.

"The Joker and I both acknowledge our cognitive functioning as similar and I agree with the assessment," I responded.

"So then go on home, Jade—it's cold out," Batman said.

"I can't—I don't want to," I replied.

"Then you'll freeze out here before it's even dawn," Batman stated.

"So be it," I sighed as I turned away from him and began walking away.

"Not so fast," Batman said as he rushed up behind me and wrapped his arm about my neck.

"What the hell!" I shrieked as he applied pressure to the back of my neck. I fainted in his arms. He threw me over his shoulder and took me back to his headquarters.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day, I woke at dawn to find myself in a strange foreign place. I jumped up from large bed and walked around the room looking for clues as to where I was.

"Hello?" I called out as I walked about. I finally stumbled upon a note. It read: _Jade, took you in for the night. The door way outside is down the hall and to your right. The code to exit is 453572. Once you are outside, you will know where you are. – Batman. _

"Hm, well that was nice of him," I shrugged as I took the note and walked down the hall and to the door. I plugged in the code, the door buzzed and I opened it to reveal a bright, sunny day. He was right—I knew exactly where I was. I walked through the dump, past the gate and back into the city streets. I hadn't eaten in nearly 24 hours and I was feeling pretty dizzy and faint. I should not faint again—that would definitely be detrimental to the amount of brain cells I'd already killed from fainting twice in one night.

As I walked down another alley (I felt like the only streets I ever saw were alleys!) I smelled something amazing. I figured I must be behind some kind of restaurant. I noticed that the kitchen door was open so I figured I slide on in and grab something to eat. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea, but I did it regardless.

Once inside the kitchen, I glanced around and saw no chefs, cooks, waitstaff—no one. I thought this odd, but I continued my journey. Suddenly, I heard voices—voices that I recognized.

"Oh look who it is! It's Miss Jade!"

The sound of Pixie's voice was insulting to my ears. I bit my lip and turned towards her voice. Three long tables were set up in a horse-shoe shape and the Maroni mobsters were gathered around the tables. Pixie was sitting in between Maroni himself and my Joker. Instead of getting mad, I decided to just laugh.

"And look who it is! Pixie! Fancy that!" I exclaimed. "So sorry to bust in on your meeting gentlemen…and lady—but I was just passing by and figured maybe something interesting was being said so I thought I might pop in and take a look," I explained with a cocky smile.

"Nothing that concerns you, little harlequin," the Chechen responded in his Italian accent.

"Ah! Signore, per favore, come si dice…uh, um, oh never mind—it's not important," I responded.

"This Jade speaks Italiano!" the Chechen exclaimed, "I want to hear from the signorina,"

"Oh no, it's okay mio principe," I responded to him with a sweet smile.

"Man, what's your freak girlfriend doing here? I thought you said she wouldn't be here," one of the mobsters said to the Joker.

"Oh now don't get all pissed at Mr. J over there—he didn't know I was dropping by," I said. _I_ didn't even know I was dropping by! I was having a pretty good time playing the game though—I just had to find something that they needed more than Pixie Dust—some bit of information that would place me above them all in importance—something to make the Joker proud of me. He looked so pissed that I was there.

"Well hunnie, you might wanna check your little self outta here—we got some business to get to," Pixie stated, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh right, of course—but I just have one question for you all," I said.

"Just a moment, please," the Joker said to Maroni under his breath as he stood to his feet.

"Now you sit your ass right back down, Joker!" I exclaimed like I was some diva. His head popped up in shocked, then a smirk crossed his lips as he sat back down. I think he was somewhat pleased his girl was taking control.

"Well ask us this one…question, Giada," he gestured to me.

"Alright," I said, licking my lips. My mind was racing. What was I going to ask them. Maybe something about Batman. Hm, Batman—there's any idea. Holy shit! Batman! My heart began racing and pounding inside my chest. I didn't know why I knew where I was that morning, but in that moment I knew _exactly_ why I knew where I was that morning—I was right outside Bruce Wayne's building. I would tell them all I knew who Batman was—Bruce Wayne! I wasn't positive Batman was Bruce Wayne, but it would make a good story.

"Who where knows about…the Batman?" I asked, licking my lips. The entire room groaned.

"Really, Jade? You fucking know we all know who Batman is!" Pixie exclaimed.

"Oh? You all know who Batman is?" I asked innocently. "Who is the Batman?"

"We don't know _who_ Batman is—we just know _of_ him," Maroni corrected her.

"Ah, yes—we all know of Batman—but no one here knows _who_ Batman is, correct?" I repeated.

"Yes, Giada—get to the point," the Joker said, licking his lips.

"Well…I know who the Batman is," I responded slowly.

Laughter erupted from the crowd of men and Pixie—they clearly didn't think I was serious, but I just kept looking back at them with a straight face and eyes to kill. Finally, their laughter died down—the only one who never laughed was the Joker. He knew I was serious even though I was just pretending I knew who Batman really was.

"I think she's telling truth," the Chechen responded, "I want to know who Batman is!"

"How do you know who Batman is?" Maroni asked.

"I don't believe her! Do you, Mr. J?" Pixie asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. He just shrugged her hand from his shoulder and stood to his feet and placed his hands on the table.

"I know who the Batman is because I was with him last night—in his secret lair," I responded.

"Which is…where?" Maroni asked.

"Oh, you all thought I was going to disclose this information? I'm at no such liberty to reveal the masked stranger and his hideout—I'm not even important enough to be summoned to this meeting! I just was wondering if you all knew about the Batman, that was all," I stated as I turned to go.

"Stay, signorina!" the Chechen called after me. I slowly turned around and made eye contact directly with the Joker.

"Nah—you don't need me here. Sorry for wasting your time," I said with a courteous smile, turned, then left the room. The Joker just stood there, not knowing what to say or do. He was, indeed, stunned.


	32. Save the Hero

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32. Save the Hero

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_Disclaimer: Thank you SO much to all of my readers/reviewers!!! You are my heroes!!!!!!!! In this chapter, the dialogue I am going to use does not belong to me, it belongs to Beyonce and her song "Save the Hero" which I felt was very fitting for Giada and Batman's relationship. Enjoy!_

After I left the meeting I crashed; my adrenaline high fell dramatically. I was so in love with the Joker and I felt like I was just consistently pushing him further and further away—but I had to because he was limiting me and my capabilities. Well, I showed _him_ today in that meeting. I just knew they were all in there probably talking about who Batman could be and how I could possibly know. The Joker didn't believe me though—he couldn't have. Of all the people in my life, he knows me the best—he knows exactly what I am thinking all the time. I just knew that he knew I was lying. It was worth the shot though!

I wandered back to the apartment. I glanced at my cell phone. How did I miss Thanksgiving? I didn't even know what day it was anymore! Thanksgiving had been a week ago! Good thing Mr. J didn't know when Thanksgiving was either—or maybe he did and he was just humoring me. How the hell did I miss Thanksgiving?! I wondered if he celebrated Christmas or Hanukah or something. I sighed, place my phone back down on the bed and went into the bathroom. I looked into the mirror and frowned at myself. I looked terrible. My hair was a mess, my face paint was coming off and my costume was beginning to fall apart. I quickly stripped down to nothing and ran the shower.

I took a twenty minute shower—the first long shower I had taken in months. It was amazing. I washed every bit of paint from my face, my hair and body. I glanced down at the jade pendant that hung around my neck. I had almost forgotten about the jade pendent the Joker had given to me; it felt like weeks ago and it had only been a day or two! So maybe on some level he still loves me and isn't too pissed at me. I sighed, finished washing up and turned off the shower. I changed into my normal clothes, dried my hair and put on normal makeup. I then sat down and sewed up the defects in my costume, this time stitching them much better than I had previously. By the time I finished with my costume, all was getting dark outside. I guess it made sense since the sun set at 4:30. I hated the winter!

The night fell and the Joker never came back to the apartment. I figured he wouldn't, but I wasn't really sure as to why. I tried not to think about it too much. I made myself dinner and went to sleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day came and went again, and still the Joker did not return back to the apartment. Night fell once again and I went to bed alone. Each day and night he was gone, I grew sadder and sadder. Maybe I had driven him away. That would be so strange—not very much like the Joker.

It wasn't until the fourth night came that I went around the apartment and began lighting the candles and took a hold of the book from his book shelf that had the military photo of him. I removed the photo from the book and looked at it for several minutes.

"Who was there to save the hero? You were the hero, weren't you—not the bad guy. Who was there to save _you?_" I asked aloud to the photo. I went into the bedroom with the photo on hand and changed out of my clothes and into my costume. I painted my face in my own harlequin style and tucked his picture into my clothing.

I needed to get out of the apartment. I needed to find the Joker for myself—to make sure for myself that he was even still alive. As I walked down the streets of Gotham, a horrible thought crossed my mind: Pixie Dust and her memory erasing dust. What if she made the Joker sniff some dust she pretended was something else but it was the memory dust? What if she made the Joker forget all about me and his feelings about me? My heart sank at this very real thought. Not able to carry myself any further with this heavy of a heart, I sat down in an alley and tried to just breathe. I closed my eyes and sat in the cold and darkness.

"What's the matter, little harlequin?" Pixie's voice rang cacophonously throughout my ears. My eyes flew open and my head popped up immediately. She stood before me with my Joker, the Chechen, Maroni, Gamble and a few other mobsters. With all the inner strength I could muster up, I stood to my feet.

"What's the matter? Nothing at all," I responded flatly.

"You haven't been out this past week—not since that day you busted into our meeting," Pixie laughed.

"Yeah, I've been tending to other things more important—like holiday shopping," I responded sarcastically.

"Holiday shopping? For who? Mr. J? Mr. J, what do _you_ want for Christmas from your little girlfriend?" Pixie asked.

I just laughed at her remark. I wasn't going to let this bitch make fun of me or the Joker. I didn't think the Joker would let that happen either. I didn't give him a chance to.

"Pixie you are too funny! Why would I buy the Joker something for Christmas?! What am I—his wife? Don't think so! I was thinking more along the lines of something for myself—something expensive and pretty—and maybe something for my friend Batman," I responded.

"Batman, really?" Maroni asked with a grin.

"Yeah—Batman. I'm thinking maybe he needs a new batmobile or something—something expensive, you know? Or maybe a new suit," I replied sarcastically.

"And…where is the money coming from for all of these…expensive things?" the Joker asked, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows. I hadn't expected him to say anything to me. Oh well.

"From the money I have saved up from working for Batman—where else? You think I'm wasting my time robbing banks and ATMs? Nah—no, no, see, I've gone further than that—I've graduated beyond that—when you want something, you have to go to the source. You should know that, Mr. J. Take what you want and when you're done, dispose of it…clandestinely," I stated.

"Are you still going to say you know who batman is?" Pixie asked finally, placing her hand on the Joker's shoulder.

"Oh I do know who Batman is—but I'm not about to reveal his identity to you clowns—not until I get what I need from him," I responded. "It's really too bad you all missed out on it though—it would have really all put you on the map as high rate criminals—but I guess it looks as though you just screwed yourselves by being all secretive," I chuckled.

"And what is it you need from the…Batman…Giada?" the Joker asked, giggling at the thought of this. I knew he was nervous at this conversation, but he couldn't very well show it to the others—it would dampen his reputation as a high rate criminal.

"All that you are not willing to give," I spat back at him. Not wanting to see his reaction, I turned around and left them all behind me. I walked out of the alley and made my way quickly back to the apartment, knowing very well he would not be coming back there. Barely able to breathe, I climbed my way to the top of the building and made my way to the roof.

When I was finally alone, I removed the picture from my clothes and gazed at it through sad and longing eyes. Why couldn't he just love me? Why couldn't he just let me be a part of his life? Why must he continually hold me at arms length? I just sat there on the roof and let the tears finally fall from my eyes.

"Giada, is that you?" Batman asked from behind. Startled, I jumped and turned around to face him.

"You scared me, Batsy," I chuckled, wiping the tears away.

"Did he make you cry?" Batman asked.

"It's just everything—I just am not sure what to do anymore. I'm putting on this façade that I know who you really are—but I don't want to know who you are—I am just saying it so that maybe the Joker will want me to work with him again. He's conducting all of this business without me when he said he wanted us to work together. I am just so lost and confused," I explained.

"Fair enough—but you're crying? I never thought Giada DiMarco would be one to cry over the Joker," Batman responded.

It was at this point when the Joker realized that I was up on the roof talking with Batman. He decided abscond from the apartment and make his way up to the roof to listen to our conversation.

"Yeah, I know. *I lay alone awake at night, sorrow fills my eyes, but I'm not strong enough to cry despite of my disguise," I replied, gesturing to my ridiculous costume and makeup.

"I'm left with no shoulder, but everybody wants to lean on me. I guess I'm their soldier," Batman retorted.

"But who's gonna be mine?" I asked, looking at the photograph of the Joker I still held in my hand.

"Who's there to save the hero?" Batman asked.

"When she's left all alone and she's crying out for help…" I continued, still looking at the photo longingly.

"I bottle all my hurt inside," I said finally.

"I guess I'm living a lie," Batman responded.

"Inside my mind, each day I die. What can bring me back to life?" I asked.

Batman took the photo from my hand and showed it to me and responded, "A simple word, a gesture—someone to day you're beautiful," I smiled, thinking of what it would be like to have the Joker tell me in all seriousness that I am beautiful.

"But who's there to save the hero?" I asked Batman, taking the photo back from him.

"Who's there to save the girl when after she saves the world?" he retorted. I smiled again back at him.

"I've given too much of my self and now it's driving me crazy. I'm crying out for help. Sometimes I wish someone would just come here and save me; save me from myself*," I said finally.

Batman remained silent for moment. It felt like days before he finally spoke again.

"Giada, I know how much you love the Joker and I also see how much it's hurting you—I think it's best you let it go. You are only doing yourself damage. As much as I feel the need to save you from this, I know it's not something I can do for you—you have to find it within yourself to save yourself—either that or hope that Mr. J will save you from yourself," Batman replied.

"He won't save me—nor should he. I did this to myself. He can't help the fact that I've been absolutely infatuated and in love with him from the moment he first spoke to me. He gets me—he can't help that, nor can I. I would just do anything to hear him say it—every now and then he might do something or say something that might allude to his love for me—or whatever he may feel for me—I do know he feels _something_—but to actually hear those three words, I think would just about make me the happiest person alive," I stated.

"He does feel something, Giada—that I can attest to—but no one will ever know what it is! I don't even think the Joker knows what it is himself!" Batman exclaimed.

"You're probably right—but I've come this far, I just feel like I can't give up now. I've done so much work and gone through so much to be with him," I responded.

"How much more will you endure in order to hear him say and mean those three words, Giada? Do you have to be on your death bed? You've already been in the hospital because of him—"

"No—that was not because of him! Harvey shot me, remember?!" I exclaimed.

"Before that—your bleeding hand and open scar wounds," Batman replied, taking my left hand in his—the hand I had punched the window with.

I glanced down at my hand and removed the glove from it. The scars were pink in color—still somewhat fresh.

"I did this to myself on my own accord—to get him out of County—I couldn't think of anything else at the time. He and I…we don't come up with plans. We improvise," I clarified.

"_You_ improvise. The Joker plans—he's been planning these past couple of weeks-and without you, nonetheless! Giada, I just don't want to hear about your death—or will that satisfy you? If he tells you as you are dying?"

"No, it won't satisfy me at all," I responded quickly. It was true—I didn't want to die over this bullshit. I just wanted him to come and save me—tell me I was beautiful—that he loved me.

"I think maybe I'll just…" I began, but Batman had already gone. I hated when he did that! "Never mind," I sighed and turned back around to face where I had been gazing prior to Batman's interruption.

As I sat there staring at the Joker's photograph, the Joker sat behind the steam pipe that protruded from the roof top. He had gone up there to spy on Batman and I—to see what our conversations were about, but he didn't get any kind of conversation he was expecting at all. I sat there, dumbfounded. He knew I cared for him and perhaps he had lost sight of that over these past few days—he certainly had lost sight of it within himself. As he sat there, he felt the tingling inside him grow. The fact I was sitting so close by to him made him feel things inside that he hadn't felt since he had given me the pendant. He knew it was a feeling that I knew how to feel, but just didn't know how to say it. The closest he came was when he gave me the pendant.

The Joker took in a breath and silently stood to his feet.


	33. A Blade in the Light

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33. A Blade in the Light

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Standing in the darkness, the Joker debated on whether or not he should let me know he spied on Batman and me. He wasn't sure how I would take it. In this one moment, he felt the compulsive need to do or say something, but he had the strange feeling inside that it would not be the best thing to do. Taking one more glance over at me sitting on the roof top with my back to him, he turned and left the roof and silently climbed back down to the apartment below.

Once inside the apartment, he removed his cell phone from the inside of his coat pocket. He looked at the date on his phone; the 12th of December. _She had wanted to make a turkey for Thanksgiving—it was all she wanted to do,_ he thought to himself as he placed the phone atop the table next to his bed. He removed his large purple overcoat and placed it over the chair in the corner. He then reached into his pocket and retrieved the knife he had been carrying all evening. Bouncing slightly each step of the way, he made his way into the bathroom to clean off the knife. He glanced every so often in the mirror at the face that peered back at him as he washed the crusty blood from the knife. Peering back at himself was a man with a painted face with two uneven scars on either side of his mouth. Licking his lips, he grabbed a towel and dried the knife, then set it down on the sink. He folded the towel and placed it back on the drying rack.

He took one more glance into the mirror, but this time paused. With his right hand, he touched the scar the right side of his face. The bumps and grooves of the scar caressed his finger tips; it sent chills down his spine. He then felt the left scar. The same sensation ran through his body. _Giada feels that way about me? I can't see how,_ he thought to himself as he removed his hand from the scars. He licked his lips, swallowed, and glanced down at the knife lying on the sink. He then glanced back up at himself in the mirror—and the scars. He picked up the knife, licked his lips again and placed the blade up to his face.

It was at this moment I had returned to the apartment. I climbed through the window and noticed that the bathroom light was on. My heart skipped a beat—it was either the Joker or some kind of intruder. I grabbed the peeler from my pocket and switched the blade. I held onto it tightly as I rounded the corner. The Joker was standing in the bathroom. The knife was just up to his face.

"N…No! Stop it!" I shrieked as I dropped the peeler to the floor and ran into the bathroom. I pulled his arm away from his face, but as I did this, I startled the Joker. As I went to grab his arm, he turned towards me with the knife and accidentally slid the knife across my cheek. I grabbed onto my face in pain and fell to the floor. The Joker instantly dropped the knife and quickly dropped to his knees. Without saying a word, he just wrapped his arms around me and held my head close to his chest.

After a few moments of him silently holding me, he broke away and held me at arms length.

"Giada, I didn't even see you coming—I never wanted to…I am—I was…" he tried to speak.

"No, it's fine, really," I responded, wiping the blood from my hands on the towel. I stood to my feet and held the towel up to my face to blot the blood. The Joker stood behind me.

"Let me see," he said, leaned closer to my face. I could feel his eyes burning into my cheek as he examined the cut he made.

"Really, I'm fine. It's not very deep—I don't think it will scar,—" I said, but cut myself short. Whoops, wrong thing to say to the Joker. I turned back towards him, "Not that it would be the worst thing if it did scar—nothing a little makeup won't hide,"

In that moment, we were the same. I got it. I finally understood why he wore the face paint. It wasn't war paint that he wore when robbing banks or rigging buildings to blow or meeting with the mob; he wore the paint because he hated his scars. I never realized how much he hated himself until this moment.

"No—you shouldn't have to wear make up…it won't scar," he responded quickly. He paused for a moment, "I mean—you have a beautiful face—you don't need makeup,"

I chuckled, "I have a bloody face," I smiled back at him. He giggled back at me and then averted his eyes to the hallway.

"Just a moment," he said, and then left the bathroom. He rustled through a few things and then came back with his little medical bag.

"Dr. J returns with his medical bag of tricks," I laughed.

"Just a little something I learned from the military," he responded with a grin. He removed some rubbing alcohol, gauze and a few other things from his bag and set them on the bathroom sink.

"Do your damage," I said, removing the towel from my face.

"As you are well aware, this is going to sting a bit," he stated as he poured some of the alcohol onto the gauze. He dabbed the gauze gently onto my face, soaking up the blood and cleaning the wound. I winced a bit at the sting, but it wasn't too bad.

"Why were you in here with the knife?" I asked finally, as he continued to clean up my wound.

"I was cleaning the knife," he responded.

"You were going to cut your face," I said. He paused from cleaning my face for a moment.

"You need to hold still if I'm going to do this…effectively," he responded finally.

"Fine—but when you're done, we're having a talk about this," I replied.

"As you wish…Dr. DiMarco," he retorted with a laugh. The Joker applied some gel to the wound, covered it with some gauze, and then taped it to my face with medical tape.

"We're going to have to change this in a little bit because you're still bleeding," he said finally as he cleaned up his things.

"That's okay. Thank you…Dr. J," I said with a smile. He grinned back at me and then turned off the bathroom light. He brought his bag into the hallway and I followed him. Seeing the peeler, I bent down and removed it from the floor. I shut the blade and placed it back into my pocket. I didn't want him getting any innovative ideas about how he can re-cut his own face.

"So, can you explain to me why you were going to cut your face again?" I asked finally, cornering him in the bedroom.

He sat down on the bed, licked his lips, raised his eyebrows and sighed. Rolling his eyes back to me, he responded, "Well, it's…that…time of year again,"

"So you mean to tell me you re-cut your scars every December?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Why?" I questioned him as I joined him on the bed.

"Because, it was how I could manage to…feel things," he responded. My heart sank for him. I understood these types of behaviors quite well from my educational background. Cutting behaviors typically enable people who cut to feel things or help them to release the pain they feel inside. However, the Joker was not the one to initially cut into his face—it was just interesting to me that he would keep cutting into his face like this, despite letting it heal.

I moved behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I rested my chin on his shoulder.

"I understand. If you feel it's something you need to do, then I don't want to be the one to stop your annual ritual," I replied. He turned his head and glanced down at me from the corner of his eye.

"You stopped me from cutting my face this time—I think there's a reason for that," he said finally, "and I don't think I want to cut it…this time,"

"And why is that?" I asked, "Have you found a sense of new self righteousness?"

"Because…you wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving—and I didn't let you. Do you like Christmas? Because I think…if you want—we can…celebrate…Christmas," he responded.

"Really? You want to celebrate the holidays?" I asked, a bit taken back.

"…Yes," he said with slight hesitation.

"Oh this will be so magical! Can we get a Christmas tree and put up lights and put up a wreath and…Oh! Can I get you a present and wrap it up for you and put it under the tree? It will be so great! You won't regret it! I'll tell you exactly what you can get for me—okay, listen carefully," I explained.

The Joker laughed at my excitement, "Okay, I'm listening,"

"I want you to cut Pixie Dust's face—I then want you to shoot her so she dies and then you can take a picture of her dead, frame the photo, and wrap it up for me!" I replied.

"I agree—she's so…agitating; always touching me. It's bound to happen sooner or later, but I'll look into accomplishing it by Christmas for you, Giadaaaaa dear!" he giggled.

"Oh good! And I know exactly what I'll get for you!" I exclaimed.

"Oh? And what would that be?" he asked, turning and then crawling slowly on top of me. He laid down on top of me and held lightly onto my hands.

"I can't tell you! It would take all of the surprise out of it!" I laughed back at him.

"Oh, but I don't see how that's fair—you know what I'm getting for you!" he responded and then kissed the other side of my face.

"I guess so—but you can still surprise me with how you actually kill her—it will be a grand surprise to me to know she's dead and can no longer steal you away from me," I stated.

"Steal me away? Giada! No one could steal me away from _you_," he answered back.

"Aw that's sweet of you, Mr. J," I giggled.

"Well, being sweet isn't exactly one of my signature trademarks," he grinned back, "so that just goes to show you that when I say you complete me…you know I'm telling the truth,"

He was so close—he was almost there! He was so close to saying those three magical words. I knew that that night was not the time he would say it, but I knew in that moment and in the events that occurred that evening, he did love me—he just really had no idea on how to say it. Maybe I should tell him I love him. Was now the best time for that? I wasn't sure either! He and I were both too ridiculous when it came to 'love' game. Maybe on Christmas—maybe on Christmas we could exchange presents and verbal love to one another.


	34. Christmas Bells, Carousels and Time

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34. Christmas Bells, Carousels and Time

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all SO much for your reviews! I am so fricken happen you all are loving it! I hope it only gets better!!!!! ___

Well, when he told me we could celebrate Christmas, the Joker really didn't know what he was getting himself into. It was only two week until Christmas, and I was all about the holiday music.

"All I want for Christmas is youuuuuuuuuu baby!" I sang as I got myself dressed. The Joker stumbled out of the bathroom and stood in the doorway just looking at me.

"You have been singing that…all morning," he said finally as he stepped into the room and pulled his clothing out of the drawer.

"Iiiiiiiiiii don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need….I don't care about the present, underneath the Christmas tree—I just want you for my own…more than you could ever know—make my wish come trueeeeeeeee—all I want for Christmas….issssssssss YOUUUU!!" I sang, completely ignoring his comment. I began to dance around the room as I continued singing the rest of the song.

"Maybe you should get a Christmas CD to listen to…and dance to," the Joker stated as he sat on the bed and pulled on his checkered socks.

"Oh! Now that's an idea! A CD I can listen to and sing to and dance to!" I exclaimed as I danced out of the bedroom.

Sitting on his bed, the Joker breathed a sigh of relief. I had been singing Christmas carols all week—all day and night, non-stop. It was now quiet for him as he got dressed. He pulled on his pants, shirt and vest. He stood in front of the mirror and tied his tie. Finally, dipping his fingers into his face paint, he smeared the white onto his face. As he began smearing the black onto his eyes, a sound came from the other room. It was the sound of strings, horns and sleigh bells. I jumped into the room with the radio in hand. I danced around to "Sleigh Bells" by the Boston Pops.

"It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!" I sang finally as I glided past him.

"Augh!" he grunted as he dropped the paint into the dresser.

"Aw you said you weren't going to paint your face today!" I huffed as I set the radio down on the table and walked up to him.

"And you said you weren't going to sing Christmas music today," he retaliated.

"Well where's the fun in getting a Christmas tree if you can't enjoy the music to go with it?!" I exclaimed.

"And where's the fun in getting a tree if you can't paint your face?" the Joker asked.

"You know very well why you can't paint your face. We're going to be civilised people today, remember? Just this one day so we can get a fucking tree!"

"Well you're always civilised," he responded, "It just takes me a bit…longer," he grinned as he began rubbing the paint from his face with his towel.

"Oh please! We're all civilised people, here. I believe every person is born on this Earth with the good will and intention to be a good willed and purposeful person—it's just, some people stray from the path. I'm not trying to sway you either way, but I'm just trying to help you remember what it's like to be on a path other than yours," I responded with a hopeful smile. He stopped removing his makeup and turned his head slowly towards me. He stared at me for a moment wit ha blank expression on his face. I couldn't help but keep smiling—his makeup was smudged and half on, half off—I couldn't help but laugh. Finally, his lips too broke and he joined me in my laughter.

"Oh, Giada. You and those Christmas trees!" he said finally through giggles as he turned to the mirror and finished removing his face paint.

"Hurry up! Oh, and it's really cold out, so we're going to have to bundle up!" I exclaimed with excitement.

"Bundle up. Hm—not too sure we have the same use of that word, Giadaaaa," the Joker responded as he turned from the mirror.

"Well, if you want you just be cold then! I guess we could always just get cozy later on and snuggle with some hot chocolate," I just kept on chattering, completely forgetting who I was talking to. Thankfully, he reminded me.

"Giada, do I strike you as the snugly…ehm, type?" he asked as he cleared his throat and emptied his pockets of all knives. I glanced down at the knives being placed on the dresser.

"Nah…I guess not," I said finally, no longer floating in my fantasy realm of Christmas and hot cocoa and Christmas trees. I sat down on the bed, wrapped up in my winter coat, scarf, fuzzy hat and boots. The Joker glanced over at me just sitting on the bed, waiting patiently for him.

"I can't remember the last time I had…hot cocoa," he said finally. I glanced up at him and grinned.

"From what I can…recall…it was—not horrible," he said, licking his lips. I just chuckled at him and shook my head.

"Are you not taking any knives at all with you?" I asked finally as he put on his jacket.

"…no…knives," he said hesitantly. He pursed his lips together and commenced to putting on his overcoat. I just kept watching him. Suddenly, he stopped.

"What?" I asked, curious as to why he was removing his purple overcoat.

"Something else," he said as he left the room momentarily and retrieved a winter jacket. I was shocked as he pulled a scarf and hat from the winter jacket. He pulled on the jacket and zipped it up. He then wrapped the scarf about his neck and pulled on the hat (think Brokeback Mountain aww). I nearly melted at the sight of him.

"Oh my, Mr. J, you look so…so…" I bit my lip, "so…warm," I said, making sure not to freak him out about the day's new look.

"Yeah—let's go before my balls start to drag on the floor," he grunted as he turned and left the room. Excited, I jumped up from the bed and ran after him.

"Hey wait up!" I called after him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The streets of Gotham looked and felt so different to me as I walked them openly with the Joker by my side. The snow was falling quite moderately, making driving difficult for those on the roads. I was just happy to be walking the open sidewalks with my Joker. I glanced over at him and smiled as we walked. He looked so miserable and I loved it! He actually sucked it up and did this for me and I couldn't have been happier.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you look!" I sang to him as we passed some buildings that were decorated with lights.

"That's because it almost is Christmas," he responded flatly and then checking his cell phone for the time.

"Oh come on! Get into the spirit of the holiday!" I exclaimed, "and stop looking at your phone! You don't have anywhere to be until much later tonight—embrace the lights, the snow, the decorations, the…whooaa!" I exclaimed as I slipped on some ice. The Joker instinctively grabbed for my arm and prevented me from falling.

"You're even less graceful than I am!" he giggled once he had me on steady feet again. I just laughed with him.

"Yeah, I know!" I responded. From that point on, he tucked my arm around his as we walked. I just about melted on the inside. I could feel the warmth of his arm radiating through his jacket. He must really be sweating! He did look awfully cute in that winter hat too. I wanted to kiss him, but I figured that would be pushing it. Besides, he kind of had his scarf tied around his neck and face—both clever for a disguise and in keeping his face warm. No one would have ever been able to guess he was the Joker—he looked so average! It was kind of depressing to me too, that he had to hide his identity, but it was still nice because it was just for this one day so we could go pick out a Christmas tree! I think I was surprised that he actually went through with it.

When we got to the tree lot, we hobbled through the crowd of Gotham City citizens in order to find the right tree. The Joker held onto me tightly so that I could not fall again—for that I was glad, because the ground was getting slippery.

"How about this one?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled from the scarf around his face. I looked at him and then back at the tree. It was legit, a Charlie Brown tree.

"Do you want the saddest looking tree for Christmas?" I asked finally.

"So maybe you should pick one out—it's been a while since I've…picked out a Christmas tree," he responded, raising his eyebrows. I couldn't help but giggle at him—all I could see of his face were his dark brown eyes and half of his nose. He really did look so cute! I never thought I'd say the Joker looked cute, but in this moment, he really did.

"Okay, let's go over here—I think I like that one over there," I said as I pointed to a distant treet.

"That one? All the way over there?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yes, that one," I replied, staring back at him intently.

"Augh okay," he grunted as we began shuffling over to the tree.

"No! That couple is going to take it!" I exclaimed as we made our way over to the tree that was being looked at by another couple.

"It's fine—I'll take care of it," he responded.

"No, you can't take care of it—all of your knives are at home," I replied.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed as he checked his pockets, "this just isn't my day,"

"Not every problem can be resolved with knives," I responded with a chuckle.

"Well that's how I resolve my…problems," he stated as we walked up to the tree.

"Excuse me, were you planning on taking this tree?" I asked them.

"Yes we were, sorry," the woman replied.

"Oh well, if I were you, I wouldn't," I said.

"And why is that?" the man asked.

"Let me ask you something real quick—do you both watch the news or read the news paper?" I asked.

"Yes, of course," the man replied.

"Well, then you've heard of Pixie Dust, the woman involved in the Maroni crime family," I explained.

"Oh yes of course," the woman said, looking a bit worried.

"Well, as you very well may know, she's got some kind of weird dust that she's been making in her bio lab that is quite toxic and from what I read just this afternoon, she's been targeting Christmas trees in the area in order to make Gotham's citizen quite sick. Now, normally I wouldn't believe such a story, but last night, I was making my way from the hospital where I work as a nurse, and I am pretty sure I saw someone here in this lot—and may I add, it was late and the lot was close—now I am not going to say for certain it was Pixie Dust, but there was someone in this area of the lot spreading something around—I'd be careful if I were you," I explained.

"Oh dear, that is terrible. Honey, let's get a tree from another lot—I just don't want to take that kind of chance," the woman said to her husband.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes—thank you very much miss, for your concerns," the woman said to me.

"No problem at all," I replied with a gracious smile. I watched them leave and then I turned to the Joker.

"See? Let's grab this one and get the hell out of here! I'm fuckin' freezing!" I exclaimed.

"Giada, you never cease to amaze me," he said finally, giggling through his scarf. He hoisted the tree up over his shoulder, and together, we bolted from the tree lot, tree and all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Once we were back in the Joker's apartment, we leaned the tree up against a wall, removed our winter clothing and just laughed at the tree we stole from the tree lot.

"I thought we were going to be civilised people today, Giada!" he coaxed as he helped me remove my jacket.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," I laughed as he pulled me into the bedroom.

"You're telling me," he giggled as he pushed me onto the bed and began removing my clothing.

"What are you doing now?" I asked.

"You said you wanted to get cozy and…snuggle, so I'm showing you how I do that," he responded with a grin.

"Oh good! Oh and here's some Christmas music you might like," I said as I put on the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. The guitars rang through the speakers of the radio and a smile slid across his lips.

"That's more like it," he said in a low voice, still grinning


	35. Blur

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35. Blur

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Disclaimer: Thank you all soooooo very much for the reviews! I love you ALL so much!!!!!! Sorry it's been a while—so please enjoy!

The morning sun came beaming into the apartment. Breathing easily, I rolled over to grab for the Joker, but the space next to me was empty. My eyes groggily opened to affirm my vacant arms. Sitting up, I rubbed my face and eyes. Breathing in again, I rolled out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom to shower. It was always a gamble waking up next to him—I'd never know if I would be waking up alone. At this point in our deranged relationship, it didn't really matter to me. As I made my way back into the bedroom from my shower, I imagined he was out meeting with the mob or something like that. I noticed his clothes were no longer carelessly strewn on the bed and floor, as they had been when we finally drifted off to sleep. Peering into the mirror at myself, something on the dressed caught my eye. I looked down to see a note:

_Thanks for the good time last night; was a good early Christmas present. – J_

I chuckled at the note. He wasn't the most romantic in the world, but he somehow always knew what to say and how make me smile. He knew how to 'put a smile on that face' of mine. I chuckled at the thought—hearing his words echoing in my ears. I towel dried my hair and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I decided that today I was going to put up and decorate the tree, and maybe make some cookies too. Cookies certainly couldn't hurt the Christmas spirit—I mean, food is always the key to every man's heart—you have to get to their heart by going through their stomach. I directed my attention to the living room area and the tree resting against the wall. Hm, I wondered if he had a tree stand—this was going to be quite the challenge if he didn't. I began a thorough search of the apartment, looking for any kind of tree stand or anything that might be able to support the weight of a Christmas tree. Perhaps I hadn't thought this through enough! I hadn't even anticipated needing Christmas tree supplies. I was too blinded by my obsession for Christmas to even consider such mechanical difficulties.

After scouring the apartment for nearly an hour, I came across a device that the Joker himself must have built. I wasn't exactly sure what it was or what its purpose was, but it seemed to hold the tree up from falling over. I just hoped it wasn't a device for killing people—what irony that would be.

Once the familiar emblem of Christmas was in place, I began my search for things to decorate. I wanted nothing more than for the apartment to be decorated by the time the Joker got back—I needed to see the expression on his face. Regardless of whether or not he was happy about it, his face would be priceless. I found a few things that I could put on the tree, but not enough to make it look really nice. I decided to quickly run out of the apartment to the nearest convenient store to get some Christmas lights and a few ornaments to put on the tree. I darted faster than lightening out of the apartment, down the countless levels of stairs and out onto the street. I jogged with great care down the salted sidewalk, the cold air bringing tears to my eyes. When I finally got to the local CVS I gathered up the first few boxes of lights, ornaments and decorations I saw and ran for the door, not even considering that I needed to exchange money for the decorations. The Joker really had me not even thinking twice about my criminal behavior.

Once I was back inside the apartment, I decided to get started on my cookies and pop some popcorn. I decided I would make a popcorn garland chain like they used to do in the movies. I quickly then ran into the bedroom and retrieved the radio and tuned in to the radio station playing Christmas tunes. I couldn't possibly bake cookies and decorate in the eerie silence—I needed some festive music. I blasted the music while I baked and began threading the popcorn.

"Feliz Navidad, feliz navidad!" I sang in my terrible Spanish accent as I danced around the kitchen. I pulled the cookies from the oven and placed them onto a large plate. Still singing, I spooned more cookie batter onto the baking sheet and placed it into the oven.

"Prospero año y felicidad!" I sang as I shuffled into the living room area to string some of my popcorn garland onto the tree. As I hung the garland, I popped a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth, still mumbling along with the song.

"It's time for some lights!" I sang aloud to myself as I ripped open the packages of lights and strung the around the tree. Suddenly, the timer on the oven went off. I ran into the kitchen to take out my second batch of cookies. I placed them onto another plate and spooned more batter onto the cookie sheet. I hadn't realized how many batches of cookie's I'd get from that batter. Once the third batch of heaven was in the oven, I skipped back into the living room and placed the new ornaments onto the tree, followed by my second strand of popcorn garland. I took a step back from the tree and smiled. It was looking so nice. I decided to plug in the lights. The tree glowed in a variety of colors—perfect, I thought, for the Joker.

"Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree…for me," I strung up my final stand of popcorn garland. Again, the timer on the oven beeped; I sachet-ed into the kitchen to check the cookies.

"Santa cutie, fill my stocking with a duplex and cheques—sign your X on the line!" I belted along with Madonna as I opened the oven, bent over to pull the cookies from the heat.

"Cheques, hm? I thought all you wanted for Christmas was me," the Joker said from behind.

"Holy shit!" I shrieked, surprised by his unannounced arrival. I shut the oven and placed the cookie sheet on the stove. I spun around and threw my oven mitt at him. "You scared the shit out of me!"

His lips simply curled into a smile and then parted into laughter. "And you're surprised by this?"

"Yeah—well, it's almost Christmas—you really should try to be less scary," I responded with a small grin.

"If I can't be scary on Christmas, what am I allowed to be?" he griped, almost mocking my statement. I rolled my eyes at his tone and reached out for a cookie. I held the cookie out to him.

"For starters, maybe you should eat a cookie—something sweet will do you good," I stated as I handed the warm cookie to him.

"I've been told to only eat cookies with milk," he replied with a smirk. Was the Joker flirting with me? I chuckled at his response and shook my head. Good thing there happened to be milk in the fridge from a couple of days ago. I reached into the fridge and pulled out the carton and held it up for him.

"Good thing we have milk then," I smirked. Standing in the kitchen, the Joker just licked his lips, raised his eyebrows and kept on grinning back at me. I pulled a glass from the cabinet and poured the milk. I handed the glass to him, along with one of the plates of cookies.

"Happy now? You have your milk and cookies," I responded with a tint of sarcasm.

"Elated," he replied with scorching sarcasm.

"Oh come on! It's milk and cookies! You must be the only person on planet Earth who detests milk and cookies! Now go sit by the tree and eat the fucking cookies!" I exclaimed pointing to the doorway the led to the living room. The glow from the tree was unmistakable. The Joker's lips parted again into erupted laughter.

"I fucking mean it! Get your smiley ass out there and enjoy the Christmas tree and cookies I spent _all_ day baking!" I exaggerated. He stood still, trying to control his laughter, but the smirk on his face would not fade.

"Okay, you better get in that living room, or I will join you and cuddle with you under a blanket—and we both know how much you love to cuddle," I threatened.

"Oh Giada! You really are a joy this time of year! I wish it was always Christmas for you—maybe we can devise a way to stick your thought processes to this time of year—you're so full of animosity and delight simultaneously," he giggled as he took a step forward towards me.

"…and? I mean every word—don't test me," I murmured through clenched teeth as I narrowed my eyes.

"And what? There's no need for you to make sense to anyone else—it's what a love about you," he responded in a low, almost seductive voice. My expression melted instantly and my heart began racing inside my chest.

"Excuse me?" I asked finally, once he had turned away from me, heading out into the living room. He spun around, still grinning.

"I'm a man of my word," he replied, trying to balance the milk on the plate of cookies. I was in a sudden daze. He said he loved something about me. I was getting closer to him actually saying he loved _me_. I didn't know what else to say to him. He just raised his eyebrows and spun around and headed into the living room. Everything was turning into a blur. I couldn't contain the excitement pounding from within. My stomach was doing somersaults and my heart was ready to escape from it cavity. It felt like it had been a while since the Joker last made me feel physically pathetic. Maybe he did want me to sit with him. Maybe he did secretly want to cuddle with me by the tree and eat cookies. A dreamy smile slowly slid across my lips as I turned back towards the oven. As if in a dream, I slowly slid the cookies off the baking sheet and placed them onto the plate with the second batch of cookies.

Where the hell was I? I could barely make sense of the situation. The Christmas music was blaring; the apartment was filled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies; the dim glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room; the absolute love of my life actually was sitting by the tree eating cookies like I told him to—I couldn't believe that. Maybe he wasn't sitting by the tree eating the cookies. Maybe he flushed them down the toilet. I thought I would check. I glided stealthily over to the trashcan and peeked out at the living room. From my peripheral, I saw that he was actually sitting quietly by the tree in the old tattered leather chair, balancing the plate of cookies on his knee, the glass of milk dangling securely in his other hand over the arm of the chair. My heart skipped another beat. I turned away from the trash and slipped back over by the oven. I couldn't help but close my eyes.

I remembered the first time I ever stepped foot into his apartment. The overwhelming smell of potato chips and peanut oil that lingered on his purple jacket had been subtle but enormously present in the apartment. The rooms were all dark, the kitchen was cold and every room had some element of being bizarrely, chaotically organized. I loved everything about the apartment, but now it was strangely opposite—not _quite_ opposite because the apartment was still the same—but in this moment, the kitchen was warm; the smell of chips and peanut oil was replaced by freshly baked cookies; the darkness was overcome by the dimly lit Christmas tree. It was like a dream. I somehow managed to keep things in chaotic organization. The tree was decorated and it looked pretty, but it was far from what others would consider beautiful. It contained both food and delicate ornaments—a paradox I think the Joker actually enjoyed. He always seemed to like the paradoxical nature of fragile and ordinary. I think that was why he was so intrigued by me.

I decided to get his actual opinion on the decorating of the tree. I waltzed into the living room as if in slow motion. Everything was still a blur to me.

"Ah, so you _have_ decided to join me!" he exclaimed with a gleam in his eyes. The smile on his face brought only a similar smile to mine.


	36. A Christmas Surprise

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36. A Christmas Surprise

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_Disclaimer: Another HUMONGOUS thanks to all of you out there reading/reviewing! I am so happy you love the story!!! And now…for the story!_

The Joker pulled me onto his lap. We sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. I don't think either one of us knew what to say or what to feel in that moment. He had his arms wrapped about my waist as he held me closely. All I could feel was the rhythmic up and down motion of his chest against my back as he breathed in and out. I wanted to turn around and kiss him and tell him just how much I loved and adored him.

Up until that moment—that beautifully tranquil moment—I had never realized just how happy that crazy sadistic clown made me. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his head, what he was thinking about the same moment I was experiencing with him. Was he thinking about his feelings—feelings he had worked so hard and for so long to repress? Was he thinking about the cookies, now sitting in his stomach ready to be digested? Or was he thinking about the Batman? There was no way for me to tell.

We just sat there in utter silence. I think it was better that way. Words would have dulled the moment—perhaps even ruined--my precious thoughts about him as they spun through my head. I could just imagine his painted face, delicately illuminated by the glowing lights radiating from the Christmas tree. I bet he looked beautiful.

Suddenly, without warning, he pulled me closer to him as he leaned further back into the chair. I could feel his light breath caressing the back of my neck as he continued to breathe. His breath was sweet—it hinted of cookies. A smile crossed my lips as I thought of him eating the cookies. There was something so very innocent about the Joker eating cookies and milk—cookies I had baked for him. It was something I never really had pictured in the past—a high rate criminal who had no problem murdering people, sitting and eating cookies by a dimly lit Christmas tree. The image alone proved to me that he had feelings and emotions that were neither morbid nor sadistic. It proved to me that he had feelings and emotions capable of love—the ability to care and the ability to love. I just knew he had to feel something for me that was more than what he had anticipated. I knew it was certainly more than what _I_ had anticipated upon meeting him nearly a half a year ago.

Had it really been that long since I moved to Gotham? Had it really been about six months? I couldn't believe it—it felt like yesterday that I had been talking with Bruce Wayne on the phone in my kitchen—him offering me the job and me accepting it. It felt like last week that I was standing at the Wendy's around the corner from my apartment, waiting for my crispy chicken sandwich—and the Maroni crime family intruding on my dinner plans—the first time the Joker appeared in my life, but I hadn't known it was him. At the same all of this felt like yesterday, it felt like eons ago that the Joker had intruded into my apartment—our first real meeting. I remembered cooking dinner and he emerged from my small apartment hallway. I remembered making us drinks. I also remembered not being afraid. What the hell was wrong with me?

Now, there I sat, romantically cuddled by that same murderous clown who had stolen my heart nearly six months ago that night in my apartment. There I sat in _his_ apartment, on his lap, wanting him to tell me he loved me. How things change in under a year! I wondered where I would be six months from now. Would the Joker and I still be doing this ridiculous dance around love? Would Pixie Dust be dead and forgotten? Would I find out who Batman really was? Would the Joker have told me he loved me by then? There were endless possibilities.

"Giada," the Joker's voice glided gently through my thoughts. I turned my head to see him as he spoke to me. He shifted me in his lap, still keeping his arms wound about my waist.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to play it cool as I let my thoughts escape my mind. I could feel my heart beginning to pound inside of my chest. Was this the moment I was waiting for? Was he finally going to tell me he loved me? I waited for it patiently.

"Giada, I have a marvelous plan for your Christmas present," he said finally with a grin so wide, nearly splitting the well healed scars.

"Is that so?" I asked, trying to match his grin.

"Yes—and I just know you're going to _love_ it," he coaxed, emphasizing the word 'love'. I pondered what he meant for a moment. Maybe he was hinting that my present was him telling me he loved me. Nah—that wouldn't be very Joker-like. He wouldn't give me a hint to something so obvious.

"Well you've certain piqued my curiosity with that description," I responded with a smirk.

"Well of course! I just wanted to make those wheels in your head…churn…a bit before I gave it to you," he explained, licking his lips as he brushed my head with his hands.

"Oh, are you giving it to me tonight?" I asked, feeling a bit more excited and anxious.

"That would be the idea," he responded, raising his eyebrows, "of course, I need to actually go and get it for you, which might take some time—but believe me, Giadaaaa, it is worth it!"

He looked so excited. I couldn't wait. The possibilities were endless, yet again! My mind was racing with thoughts and ideas of what his gift to me could be. I hadn't even had time to get his gift yet—it had been a while since I had spoken with Batman. I needed Batman for his Christmas present—I was going to present the Joker with my knowledge who Batman was—even though I had no idea. I figured using Bruce Wayne's name was as good as any. It didn't really matter—Batman knew who _I _was. It didn't matter if my assessment was correct or not. I just wanted to make the Joker happy—to realize I was just as good a criminal as he is. I wanted him to know I was capable of so much more than just sitting around hating Pixie Dust.

"I hate to ruin this…moment…Giada, but if you would like your present this evening, I really must be going," the Joker stated finally, again breaking through my thoughts with his smooth voice.

My heart sank a little. I wished so much that he would tell me he loved me in this moment—it was so perfect! I sighed and forced a smile.

"If you don't mind getting it for me," I responded.

"Never," he replied, flashing me a smile I had never seen before. It was the same smile he always had, but for some reason, it was rid of all angst and chicanery—it was him truly smiling because he actually pleased to do something for me and he wanted me to know that. That smile was forever burned into my memory—the Joker smiling non-maliciously. I never thought I'd see it. Even when we were in moments of romantic lust in the dark of night and he would smile satisfactorily at me, I knew he was happy with me, but the smile still hinted of evil.

I went to remove myself from his lap, but he held me down for a moment. I paused, still entwined in his arms. He then finally stood up, but still held onto me as we stood on our feet. He turned me around so that I was facing him. Taking my face in his hands, he leaned his head down to mine and pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't the most passionate kiss we'd shared, but it was the most romantic. Without saying anything, I knew he cared for me in ways he never thought possible. He pulled away slowly, making sure our eyes met first. He then jerked up, smiling a deviant smile and rushed out of the apartment.

I was left there, amazed, dazed, excited and confused all at once. I had no idea where he was going or how long it would take him. I did know one thing—I had shared an incredibly moment with the Joker—the man I loved with every ounce of myself. I was too anxious to sit around the apartment to wait for him to return. I bounded elatedly to the roof of the apartment building. My heart was pounding as I stared out over Gotham. The lights were beautiful as they radiated from each building, making the snow that clung greedily to them sparkle with radiance. I stood there just watching the city and the people far below. I hadn't realized how long I had been standing there. I could have watched the people and the city for hours!

"Giada," the voice boomed from behind me. Startled, I turned around to see the Batman standing defiantly against the winter chill.

"Batsy! You scared me," I laughed.

"You look like you're in a better mood than when I last saw you," he grunted.

"Yes I am. I just had a fantastic evening with the Joker," I said dreamily as I swayed from side to side.

"Is that so," the Batman responded, almost dubiously. He didn't believe the Joker was capable of such moments.

"Yes—it was quite romantic, actually!" I gushed, ignoring his doubts. "I do wish he told me he loved me though, but the smile he gave me was so genuine—so real. It had no hint of malicious intent behind it,"

"Giada, where did the Joker go?" he asked.

"He went to get my Christmas present," I explained.

"Did he say where that would be?" Batman asked, as though he were trying to get to a point that needed to be made.

"No—it's a surprise I guess," I replied, suddenly coming down from my elation as I heard the concern in Batman's voice.

"Giada, I don't think is the kind of surprise he meant for you," the Batman stated finally, after pausing for what felt like centuries.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"Giada, come with me," the Bat motioned for me to follow him. I did as I was told and followed him to the edge of the building. "Hold on tight to me," Again, I did as I was told and clutched tightly onto Batsy. He then leaped off the building. We soared high above Gotham for many blocks. When I felt that we'd traveled to far from home, the Batman swooped down to a dark alley.

"Where are we? Where did you take me?" I asked, slowly releasing my grasp from him.

"This way—I saw him go in here," the Bat led me into the back of a building. Once inside, all was dark, except for a light at the end of the hall. Batman led the way until we came to the doorway. Inside I could hear laughter and voices—voices of people who were familiar to me. Nervously, I slid by Batman as he stood darkly behind me in the shadows so to go unrecognized. Nothing on this planet could have prepared me for what I saw as I stepped into the light of the doorway.

The Joker was lying on a couch with his head resting on Pixie Dust's lap. They were giggling about something as she wiped off her hands onto a towel. It looked like she had just fed him something. A few others from the Maroni crime family were sitting in chairs at a table playing cards and smoking cigarettes. My heart sank.

"Joker?" I asked suddenly, trying with all my might to hold back my tears. I had no face paint on—no mask to hide behind. Was it time to face the truth—that I would never be with him?

He glanced up at me from his position, licked his lips and tilted his head curiously at me. A conniving grin then slid suddenly upwards across his lips as he started to laugh manically with Pixie.

"It's Mr. J to you," he giggled.

"Huh? Was this seriously what you were planning for me to stumble upon? Or were you just planning on never coming home?" I asked, suddenly a fit of rage rising within my body. I could feel my pulse increase with each word that seeped through my clenched teeth. I thought that my face must have been a blood-shade of red.

"Coming home?!" He laughed, "You're crazier than me! _That's_ hard to beat," he giggled with Pixie.

"What is so crazy about me?!" I shrieked suddenly, "You know just as well as I do where home is and that you and I are not crazy! You're always telling me you're not crazy and they you and I share the same mind and that—" he cut me off abruptly.

"I don't even _know_ who you are—let alone what I think about you and your craaaaazy thought patterns! I do know, however, that you are quite beautiful…" the Joker commented finally, sitting up. Pixie smacked his shoulder at his compliment.

I stood there in silence for a moment. My heart sank each second our eyes stared back at each other.

"You don't know me?" I asked finally, my voice soft.

"That's what I said," the Joker laughed, "beautiful but can't hear very well!"

"As in, you don't know who I am?" I asked, this time my voice louder and with more force.

"Look, hun, he said he doesn't know you! Now get out!" Pixie screamed.

"You!" I shrieked, "You did this to him!" I could feel Batman's gloved hand slipping to my side, ready to pull me away if things got to heated.

"I did what?! I did NOTHING to him! He came to ME out of his own accord! It's not my fault he wants nothing to do with your pitiful existence. He's finally come to his senses who the…more intelligent and worthy of us is—that's all," Pixie said as she glared at me.

My hands clenched into fists at my side, "You know NOTHING of what you're saying," I sneered through clenched teeth, "I know exactly who you are and what you've done and I will kill you when I get the chance,"

Pixie just started laughing, "You're so funny—it's really too bad you don't know the Joker—you two might've really gotten along," He glanced over at the Joker, who was squinting real hard at me. He finally stood to his feet as though trying to remember something.

"Joker—it's me, Giada—you know me—you and I were just up in your apartment—I made you cookies—you actually ate them despite the fact you don't really like cookies—you ate them for me! You always tell me that I complete you—that I am your intellectual match," I said calmly, trying to remember back to all my education in psychology.

The Joker walked slowly toward me, still squinting his eyes, trying to remember all that I told him. I could almost see his brain working hard—harder than ever, to remember everything.

"Mr. J!" Pixie squealed after him, "She's such a liar!"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head slowly to see her. "She's _lying_," Pixie said through clenched teeth. The Joker paused and then turned back towards me slowly.

"Joker, please, you remember me and everything we've been through—it's been so much," I pleaded, almost in tears. He stood in front of me, staring hard into my eyes. A smirk suddenly escaped from his scared lips and he erupted into laughter.

"Giadaaaaa hm? You belong in Arkham!" he roared through his laughter. I couldn't even stay to try to convince him any further. I couldn't let myself cry in front of all of them—show them how weak and helpless I was. My heart had sunken so far into my stomach that I barely even had a heart left. Batman whisked me away out of the building. I laid helplessly in his arms, unable to move


	37. A Proposition

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37. A Proposition

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Batman's arms held onto me tightly seeing as I was horribly unable to walk let along stand on my own.

"Batman," I gasped, unable to breathe from the pain I felt inside.

"Giada, I didn't mean to bring you here to hurt you," Batman explained.

"I know—but I didn't think this would happen—that he could forget me that easily," I cried, the tears now flowing down my cheeks. Batman brought me up to the roof of another building.

"I can't believe what I am about to say, but here goes: you know it's not him saying those things, right? It's Pixie Dust," Batman explained.

"I know it is, but there's nothing I can do to stop what she's done to him—it's her stupid dust!" I exclaimed, both furious and feeling the agony swell inside.

"Maybe that's true—but maybe this is what you need in your life. Believe me, Giada, the Joker is not someone who can positively influence your life," the Bat explained.

"I can't stay here another minute longer," I said finally, wiping my tears from my face.

"I'll bring you home," Batman offered.

"No—I can't stay in Gotham another minute!" I exclaimed, unable to tame the emotions I was feeling inside. I wanted to die, but I knew that was not the answer.

"Where do you plan on going?" Batman asked.

"Back home—to Boston," I replied curtly, "where else? No where else is home to me but Boston. Or maybe I won't go home—I'll go far away—to Italy and find my family there," I paced around thinking of other options.

"Italy, Giada? Be sensible! Why don't you go back home to your own apartment here in Gotham and give Bruce Wayne a phone call—I'm sure he'd take you back," Batman coaxed.

"Batman, I really can't stay here another minute!" I cried suddenly turning on him.

He waited for a moment before responding.

"Bruce Wayne wants you to work for him again—he knows you have the intelligence and talent to really flourish," Batman urged.

"No—I can't—and how do you know what Bruce Wayne wants?" I asked, almost furious again.

"Because I am Bruce Wayne," Batman said finally. My eyes widened in shock.

"What?! Batsy is Mr. Wayne?!" I exclaimed, I could hardly contain myself.

"Please Giada—you mustn't tell anyone," he urged, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise—but I also cannot spend another minute here in Gotham," I said finally.

"Fair enough—but I'll be the one taking you back to Boston," he stated.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes—I do have a private jet after all—you'll be in Boston in no time," Batman said, almost dejectedly.

"Thank you," I replied softly.

Batman took me where I needed to be. Before I knew it, I was sitting in his private jet. Bruce sat across from me clad in all but his Batman mask. He sat with his head resting on his fist. I sat with my face buried in my hands, trying harder each moment not to cry. I didn't want to appear weaker than I already had in front of Bruce. Without his Batman mask on, it felt different—strange, even, for me to open up to him—he was my boss, not my friend. But as Batman, he became my friend—he was there for me and I had been grateful for that, but in this moment, nothing could make the pain go away.

I was such a fool. I had fallen hopelessly in love with some who would never fall in hopelessly in love with me—and there I was, running away from the pain—but what else could I do? I couldn't stay in Gotham. Maybe Bruce was right—maybe it was what I needed to get over the Joker. I had to go home and try again—I had to start anew.

I would just close up the memories of the Joker and lock them away in the heart I'd lost. I would never forget the Joker, but I forbid myself from thinking about him. I would never again let myself think of him.

Bruce and I were silent for the entire flight to Boston. The plane landed in the D terminal at Logan airport in Boston. As it came to a stop, Bruce finally looked up at me.

"I'm not going back to Gotham without you, Giada," he said finally.

"What?" I asked, incredulous.

"I can't let you face this alone. I know what it means to lose someone you love and I know that pain and I can't risk you turning into something you're not," Bruce explained finally. A smile crossed my face. He was so thoughtful.

"Bruce, that's really sweet of you, but I'm home now—and I think I'll be fine," I stated.

"As a friend, Giada, please—let me stay. I have a proposition for you," Bruce began.

"Try me," I replied, grinning almost in the same style the Joker would.

"Let me stay here with you. I have a lot of connections here in Boston—I can network and do business here as long as you need. However, I do know you have a master's degree in neuropsychology, but if you have any other academic calling you can think of, I will pay for your education in full,"

"What?! Why?" I asked, incredulous again.

"Because I know when you study and work hard on something, it helps you to take your mind off of the hurt you feel on the inside—it helps you grow stronger," Bruce explained.

"Well, there is this accelerated nurse practitioner program at Mass General that I'd debated applying to after my undergraduate work—Bruce, I've always wanted to work in a mental hospital, but I cannot administer drugs with my master's degree—but if I become an NP, then I can do that and work in a mental hospital or mental ward in a hospital," I explained.

"Well, it's done," Bruce agreed.

"It's a two year program though," I said.

"So I'm here for two years with you—you'll be ready by then, I know you will be,"

Bruce and I exited the plane and a limo took us back to my apartment. It was the first night out of many nights I would be spending alone and away from the Joker. I was relieved and glad to have Bruce with me as my friend, but nothing compared to the Joker. I loved him with all my heart, but I knew that there was nothing I could do to get him back to me.

I applied and was accepted to the MGH NP program and I began taking classes immediately. Bruce worked long days and nights, spending most of his time on his cell phone and in front of his computer on SKYP doing business. He would occasionally spend his nights dressed as the vigilante Batman, bringing on a whole new outlook to crime in the city of Boston.

I grew to know Bruce as Batman—or Batman as Bruce, which ever it was. Bruce was a lot like Batman—he was not the billionaire playboy he made himself out to be when I had known him in the beginning. That had, of course, been an act for the public—for those who did not know him. Sometimes, we'd be up late, spending nights talking about how past—he told me about his mother and father's death—the one which he believed he had caused. Sometimes I felt like I was doing more psychotherapy than being a friend, but either way, I was able to really talk to him and understand him and the face behind the Batman mask. It was something that I wished the Joker had been able to do—talk to me openly. It was in those moments of our friendship that I realized the ultimate: the Joker and Bruce had both been struck with tragedy, but each other them handled their experience in different ways—one went the evil route and the other channeled his pain into something good. I began seeing why Bruce was so adamant on me not being alone—on me not facing this pain alone—he feared I had learned all of the horrible way to deal with tragedy and pain from the Joker and he wanted to teach me the positives that can come out of tragedy. He wanted to prove to me that this could make me a stronger person.

I had to believe him. The months passed quickly, though the pain I felt for the Joker never went away. I held it all at arms length, feeling only the numbness of the situation. I used Bruce as my clutch and friend—he could tell what my days were worse than others and he was always there for me—ready with whatever I needed. I hoped he wasn't falling in love with me. I couldn't see how he could, only because he knew how much I had invested in my love for the Joker.

The months turned into a year. I couldn't believe it had been a year since I had been away from Gotham and the Joker. I spent most of my days working, with Bruce, and in classes and studying. The NP program was intensive, but Bruce was a constant support. He helped me study when I felt that it was impossible for me to pass an exam. When I finally was in the stages of my clinicals, he was supportive and encouraged me not to be nervous.

"Giada, this is what you want—you wanted this for a while and now you get to put your knowledge into action—these next few months are going to fly by," he encouraged. I couldn't help but agree, but I knew that once I was done with my degree, we would be heading back to Gotham. I didn't feel at all ready to face that city again, but I knew it was my end of the proposition I had to uphold. I felt that Bruce had gone above and beyond my expectations of a friend and I knew I had to go back to Gotham with him.

Within six months, I finished my clinical and graduated from the program with honors. I had seriously worked my ass off in the past two years, but I knew it was almost time to go back to Gotham. Bruce had been so sure that in two years time I would be ready to go back, but I was not ready at all—but I would never ever let him know that I felt just as horrible now as I did back then, two years ago.

What made things even worse was that I had no reason not to go back—I had been offered a job. Bruce was ecstatic.

"Giada! This is fantastic! I knew you'd get a job doing what you really want!" Bruce exclaimed, "This calls for champagne! We can head back to Gotham now in no time!"

I couldn't let him down. I had to go back—I had to face my past and the pain I felt then and the pain I was feeling now. Besides, I had a job position waiting for me; at Arkham Asylum.


	38. Arkham Bound

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38. Arkham Bound

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_Disclaimer: Oh my God I love you ALL SO MUCH!!! Thank you for all the reviews!!!! I am so friggin' happy you like the story! I too want Pixie to die—hmmm we'll see what happens! _

The sun rose over the Boston skyline and was as beautiful as ever. I knew from that sunrise that I wasn't meant to leave my home. How could I ever break the news to Bruce—that my heart was damaged and that I was unable to fulfill my end of the proposition? I sat at the kitchen table hugging my knees to my chests as I stared out the window at my city. I hadn't been able to sleep a single second that night before—not when I knew that today I would be leaving for Gotham with Bruce. I wished he was awake so that he could soothe my pain like he always could. I had to go—I knew I had to. I cared too much for Bruce and all he'd done for me, and I couldn't break his heart.

On the other hand, what if I ran into the Joker at night somewhere? How would my distant eyes take the blow of actually seeing him in real life? As of that past two years, he only appeared to me in my nightmares—they couldn't even be considered dreams. Dreams are supposed to make you happy when you awaken the next day—these dreams, or nightmares rather, made the gaping hole inside my chest only widen each morning. Every single night, I would re-live that last day with the Joker—the loving, caring, romantic moment we last shared, followed by the hurtful blow of reality when Pixie used her stupid dust to erase his memory of me. I wondered what else she managed to erase from his already twisted mind. At first, this nightmare would awaken both my and Bruce from the other room over—my screaming not so easy to hide. As the months went by, the screaming became less and less frequent and I ceased to waken Bruce.

I felt so bad for waking him up in the middle of the night with my cries of horror from the nightmare, but I think he grew accustomed to it. It was probably something he had endured after his parents were killed, though my tragedy was nothing comparatively speaking—but Bruce never felt like his experience was worse or better than mine—they were simply tragedies for both of us. I liked that.

"Oh wow, what a sunrise," Bruce said from behind me finally. I sat motionless despite the relief I felt on the inside from the sound of his voice. He shuffled over to the table and sat down across from me, his back facing the glorious sunrise.

"Coffee?" I offered with my mouth and half of my face still buried into my knees.

"Nah—I actually slept very well last night," he stated with a content sigh. A soothing smile crossed his lips but then faded as quickly as it appeared. He studied my face and the posture of my sitting-fetus position.

"I take it you didn't sleep at all," he said finally, glancing down at the large mug of coffee sitting in front of me. I never drank coffee. Ever.

"Bingo," I murmured.

"I'm sorry Giada. You can sleep on the plane," Bruce explained with a tint of hope in his voice.

"Don't be—it's not your fault," I said, finally moving my legs beneath the table and assuming a normal sitting position. I cupped my hands around the warm mug and stared hard down into the dark brown liquid.

"Giada, I know you're nervous about going back to Gotham—and believe me, I love Boston too, but it is time to go back. We can't hide from the things that hurt us forever," he said finally. He paused and seeing the pain in my eyes, continued, "I know you're still hurting. That hurt will never really go away, but you can work with it and become that strong person I know you are—that strong person who is living inside of you,"

I nodded my head in approval. I knew he was right, but I didn't know how to ask him what I should do. What should I do if I ran into him? What should I do if I ran into Pixie? Well, that one was easy—I'd kill her. But that was besides the point. I wondered if Bruce would be okay with me killing her. Probably not. He had one rule as Batman—he would never take a life. Well, maybe I could just be his murderous sidekick if I couldn't be the Joker's murderous sidekick. I had no problem kill that bitch—none whatsoever.

"What's running through your mind, Giada? You look distraught," he said, staring hard into my face. I realized the twisted and angry look that must have been on my face.

"I was just thinking about what I would do if I ran into the Joker—what would I do—that kind of scenario. Or even worse, Bruce—what if I run into Pixie?" I asked, letting my thoughts run free for him to hear.

Bruce pursed his lips together as though he were in deep thought and deliberation over the subject. He nodded his head for a moment and then looked back up at me with thoughtful eyes.

"Those are not going to be easy situations for you to handle, but I think you're a strong enough woman to deal with those instances in ways you see fit," Bruce explained calmly and with careful consideration.

I think he knew that I wanted Pixie to die at my hand, but he knew I knew that was against his code of ethics. It was against society's code of ethics, and used to be against my code of ethics before I had met the Joker. Bruce knew how much I wanted that woman dead and he knew that there was nothing he could say to me or do for me that would change what I wanted to do to her, so he didn't try. He left it open ended and I knew that no matter what happened between Pixie how I dealt with her, he wouldn't judge me. It was our unspoken understanding—not something we saw eye-to-eye on, but something we mutually understood.

Bruce held out his hands to me, palms up. I looked down at his hands and placed my hands into his.

"Giada, we can do this—if you're with me, I promise you will get through this," he said as he squeezed my hands tightly in his. I nodded my head. I knew I could do this. I had to. It was something necessary. I knew that once I was back in Gotham, I would run into Pixie and the Joker—it was just inevitable. The only question was where and when? How long after being back in Gotham would it be before I ran into them?

Only living through time could reveal those answers. Bruce and I were packed and on his private jet before I could even get my thoughts in order. We were silent for the duration of the flight back to Gotham. As the plane began descending, I raised my eyes to Bruce.

"Bruce, you know there will be no happy ending, right? There's no hope, no love, no glory," I spoke softly.

"There can't always be a happy ending—there can't always be hope, love or glory, but you can find happiness if you're looking for it—it's not something that will just show up. Believe me, I know better than most that you have to look for happiness in everything you do—you have to feel it, breathe it, become it—it will be there," he explained.

"I feel like the happiness I want is intangible," I said flatly.

"There are ways around the intangible—the intangible can become tangible Giada—you just have to know the right people and allow a little bit of time," Bruce stated. I loved his calming voice. A smile slide across my lips.

"What would I do without you, Bruce?" I asked finally.

"Oh, I don't know—be lying in a dumpster somewhere in Gotham doped out on heroine?" he asked with a small laugh. I laughed with him. He was probably right, oddly enough.

"Really, though—Bruce I am so glad to be your friend—you've been too good to me these past couple of years. What can I do for you? Is there anything at all?" I asked.

"No Giada, just be the strong self I know you are," he responded with a smile.

"Please Bruce—let me do something for you—anything at all—I owe you so much,"

He sat there for a moment and thought. Finally, he shook his head.

"What is it?" I asked, a flood of concern flowing endlessly over my face.

"You won't like what I'd ask of you, but I'll ask it anyway: whatever you do when we get back, do not go after the Joker—please Giada, do not pursue him,"

I was silent. I didn't want to listen to him. I didn't want him to be right, but I knew he was. I just didn't want him to capture and kill the Joker—actually, I knew he couldn't kill the Joker, but I didn't want the GPD to kill the Joker because of Batman capturing him. I took in a big breath and sighed. I knew I had to agree.

"Fine," I sighed again as I shook my head, "as long as you promise me the GPD won't kill him,"

"I can't promise anything for them—we no longer communicate, remember? I'm a vigilante,"

He was right. Damnit! I had to let fate take its course. Silently, we exited the plane that had been parked for nearly ten minutes as we finished our conversation. Bruce's limo dropped me off at my idle apartment—the same apartment my journey had begun. It all felt like déjà vu. This time, Bruce came with me, afraid to leave me alone in my place our first day and night back to Gotham.

When I was finally back inside my apartment, I felt the pain rush over me. All of the memories I had spent the past two year repressing flooded my mind. Bruce saw it in my face. I almost collapsed at the mere sight of my apartment. Bruce held me in his arms as I cried softly into his chest. I shook my head.

"I can't do this," I sobbed.

"Yes you can," Bruce replied, "You're stronger than this—but I know you need to feel this emotion. It's been a while since you've been here,"

He let me cry in his arms for a few minutes until I finally straightened myself up and took a step back from him. I wiped the tears from my eyes and faced the apartment again. I took in a deep breath and walked fully inside and into my bedroom. I tossed my bags onto my bed and headed back into the kitchen.

"Bruce you don't have to stay," I said finally.

"Giada, you just broke down," Bruce replied.

"I think I'll be fine. Besides, I'm Arkham bound tomorrow. I have to get all of my things ready and I need to clean this place and unpack. It's been a long time, since I've been in this apartment and I'm ready to start over,"

Bruce paused and finally nodded his head in approval. He took a step toward me and hugged me.

"If you need anything at all, I'm a phone call away—and you are always welcome at my penthouse,"

"Thank you," I kissed him on the cheek and he left.

I was alone. I went into my room and unpacked my things as quickly as I had thrown them into my bags. I went into the living room and turned on the radio. Thankfully they were playing good music for me to clean to. I shoved every memory out of my mind as I danced around the apartment to S.O.S by Rihanna.

"S.O.S please someone help me!" I sang as I dusted and scrubbed and mopped and swept and vacuumed.

My cleaning took me well into the evening. It was just like the first night I had ever spent in Gotham—except tonight I would not be running down to Wendy's for a spicy chicken sandwich. It seemed my life had come full circle. I was actually even excited to finally get to see patients at Arkham Asylum tomorrow. I would finally be doing the mental health routine I'd dreamt of for much of my young adult life. I was twenty-seven and ready to being my professional career as a psychotherapist. This time, I would even be able to prescribe drugs. This excited me. I was one step down from being called Dr. DiMarco. Rather, my title was: Giada DiMarco, BS, MS, NP. Too much education for my own good.

As I laid in bed that night, I realized that I could have majored in pre-med in my undergrad and gone to med school in the time it had taken me to finally get where I was now. I could have been called Dr. DiMarco! I grimaced at the thought. Oh well. I was just glad to be able to see patients in a mental health setting.

In the morning, I would be Arkham bound.


	39. Shattered Glass

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39. Shattered Glass

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_Disclaimer: I can't say it enough—how much I absolutely am in love with all of you for reading this story! I absolutely love writing it and it makes me SO happy to see you are just as happy to read it! Thank you all so much!!!! __________ As for the story, I know that Arkham is for the criminally insane, but I am making this Arkham an asylum for all kinds of crazy, not just the criminally!_

The sun rose over Gotham just as it had the day before over Boston. The world hadn't ended the way I felt it had. I guess I was a bit relieved when my eyes fluttered open at the sound of my alarm to see the half-clouded sun flowing into my room. My first morning in my apartment—I felt much of the same anxiety rolling out of bed this morning has I had felt on my first day working for Bruce nearly two years ago.

In the shower, I thought about the possibilities of the different patients I would perhaps be working with while at Arkham Asylum. It made me slightly anxious knowing that I would be working with patients who were in there not only because they were deemed mentally unstable, but some of them, Gotham's criminals. My heart jumped at the thought of working with the criminal population in Gotham—it brought me just one step closer to the Joker. I hadn't realized through all my pain in what had happened with him just how much I actually did miss him. I never thought I would miss a man like him from my life, but obviously, I hadn't ever entertained the idea of falling in love with a man like him either.

Not thinking about anything in particular—actually, I was thinking hard about what awaited me behind those closed doors—I walked through the doors of Arkham Asylum with a brisk step. I was both eager and anxious to see my case load.

"Hi, I'm Giada DiMarco—I've been hired to work here from Boston and well, I'm here for my first day," I spoke to the secretary in the main lobby.

"Oh yes, Dr. Gerard told me to expect you this morning. So good to have you on our team!" the secretary chimed, her voice rather melodic for such a dreary setting.

"Thank you," I nearly stuttered, still stunned from the cheeriness of her expression.

"Dr. Gerard will be right down," she continued, her voice still as beautiful as ever, "you can take a seat right over there," the pointed to a couple of chairs and a sofa wedged into a small corner. I nodded my head and wandered over to the sofa. Just as I was about to sit down, a man's voice greeted me.

"Giada DiMarco?" the man asked me. I looked up to see an older man with white hair and glasses clad in a suite covered by a lab coat greeting me. I smiled at his gentle face. I stood up and held out my hand.

"Yes. Dr. Gerard?" I asked as I shook his hand. "Pleased to meet you, doctor,"

"The pleasure is all mine. We are so excited here at Arkham to have you as a part of the team," he explained, "Follow me—I'll take you to your office and then we can get started on orientation,"

I followed him to the elevator, and then out onto the fourth floor. He led me down a serious of hallways until he stopped in front of a door. Next to the closed wooden door was my named beautifully scratched into a name plaque: _Giada DiMarco, BS, MS, NP_. Chills of excitement traveled fiercely up and down my spine at the sight. Dr. Gerard unlocked the door and turned on the lights.

"Welcome home," he chuckled as he presented to me my office. It was a mere ghost of the office I had at Wayne Enterprises, but that didn't bother me. The couch that sprawled against the wall to my left was a dark forest green. I liked it. It reminded me of the Joker's vest. At the sudden thought that escaped into my conscious memory, I shuddered. Quickly, I placed my bags onto the desk, hoping the doctor didn't notice the temporary threat of my memory.

"Here is the key," Dr. Gerard handed me the key to my office.

"Thank you," I smiled as I took it and placed it onto my key ring.

"Follow me—we've got a lot planned today—most of it orientation, getting your ID badge and…" he paused for mock anticipation, "giving you your first case load!"

I laughed at his expression. I liked him. He was nice, easy going—and could make a joke out of working in such an environment. I liked that I would be working solely as a practitioner but also that I would be working with him as my boss—my medical superior, my go-to. It made me very comfortable, assessing the situation.

First, Dr. Gerard gave me the grand tour of the entire asylum. It took forever—the asylum was huge—or so it felt. He recognized my overwhelmed expression and told me that it really wasn't as large and confusing as it seemed—that I would get used to it. I nodded in assurance. I trusted Dr. Gerard.

By the time I was at orientation, I couldn't help but let my mind wander. The asylum was good enough, I supposed. The only place that bothered me was the actual ward itself—where the patients were kept to live. Each room was like a jail cell, complete with a bed, a toilet and a desk. It saddened me that patients who remained here had to live in such conditions—I knew I would go crazier living here if I were a mental patient.

The orientation dragged on as each department head spoke and gave their powerpoint presentation. To my dismay, at the end of each presentation, I had to take a minor quiz about what I had just learned about the department and the facility and the codes. I chuckled to myself as I learned the hospital codes—for each hospital the codes are different. I learned that a code red was a fire (which is true for most hospitals), code blue was a medical emergency (also true for most hospitals), code black was a civil or societal disturbance of the peace (like a bombing or something…AKA the Joker was on the loose) and code purple, (this was my favorite) a mental patient was loose/had escaped from their room. Of course the code had to be purple. It reminded me of the Joker and his purple suit. I could just picture it now: I would be working here and they would call a code purple and I would just start laughing thinking about the Joker escaping—not that the Joker was even here at Arkahm. Maybe all of the patients wore purple suits. I'd know that the Joker was here the day they called a simultaneous code black and code purple. I chuckled darkly to myself as I took the test on the codes.

At the end of the day, Dr. Gerard presented me with my name badge and a closed folder.

"Giada, here you are—congratulations," he chuckled, "I hope it's not too much for you to handle—there are a couple of criminals in that case load, but I am sure you will be able to handle it. If you have any questions at all, please do not hesitate to page me," Dr. Gerard explained.

"Thank you so much, doctor," I said with a gratuitous smile, "I'll look them over for the rest of today and tonight so I'm ready for tomorrow,"

"Fantastic—don't overwhelm yourself too much—if you find it harder and harder to leave your work at the asylum and that you are mentally bringing it home with you as well, feel free to talk to me—this job isn't easy and I know that I've certainly brought home with me my share of issues from working here, but I assure you, it gets easier. You just have to learn to leave the patients and their statuses here at the end of the day," Dr. Gerard spoke to me, the most serious he had been all day. I nodded my head in acceptance. I knew this to be very true—one of the many things they even taught us in school.

Dr. Gerard left my office. I put the folder down onto my desk and decided it was time to hang up my diplomas. I carefully pulled them from my brief case, along with some frame hangers. I hung them on wall above the sofa—they seemed to fit the best there. Three diplomas—they looked wonderful to me as I took a step back to admire them. My hard work on display. I smiled at myself and took a seat at my desk. I took in a deep breath and opened the folder. There were five different packets—each a different patient, their medical and personal histories, and of course, their alleged reason for being in the hospital.

I read briefly each name of each patient: _Case #1, Edward Nygma, Case #2, Billy Fargo, Case #3 Walter Louise, Case #4 Alberto Falcone and Case #5 Dr. Jonathan Crane_.

Jonathan Crane. Dr. Jonathan Crane? I thought that name sounded familiar—one of the many names rambled off by Bruce probably. Curious, I looked into his history.

I spent most of my night reading all 5 of the packets. It wasn't until it was well past midnight that I decided to finally put things way and get to sleep. I had to be in the asylum at 8:00. That night, my mind was plagued by dreams that involved all five of my new caseloads. Jonathan Crane showed up in the therapy room with a mask on that resembled a Scarecrow, which was well known within his case history. In the dream, he had the drugs he used on his victims. In the middle of the session, he sprayed me with the drugs. It was then that the other four of my patients broke into the session. Each of them looked nothing like their file photographs—they all faded and twisted and turned and morphed into something other than themselves. I rubbed my eyes to try and free myself from the drug induced vision but Edward Nygma ran behind me and tied my hands to the chair. It was at that moment when I looked up and saw Jonathan Crane, he sat across from me with a smug grin on his face—the mask was gone. I blinked my eyes repeatedly but the image of him kept morphing. Slowly, his hair grew longer, turning a light brown, almost dirty blonde and a greenish hue; simultaneously, his face melted into that of the Joker's and his clothing wasted away into the Joker's purple suit. He sat there, grinning back at me. I screamed in horror, trying to free myself from the hold Edward Nygma held onto me. The other four patients then joined Jonathan Crane and each and every one of them had transformed into the Joker as well. I continued screaming in horror for them to go back to being themselves—for them to let me go. At that point, Alberto Falcone, as the Joker, whipped out a knife and approached me, ready to cut my face.

"No! Please stop it!" I screamed aloud, waking myself before my alarm alerted me it was time to begin my day. Sitting up in bed, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and closed my eyes tightly. What a horrible nightmare. I stumbled into the bathroom and showered.

I found myself on the train to Arkham what felt like minutes later. I had been lost in my thoughts of the dream—the face of the Joker haunting me. I was back in Gotham and hadn't even the mere chance of seeing him. There was no way I would run into him—he was a creature of the night and spent his nights in dark alleys and in private meetings or in his apartment. I would not be running into him. I needed to keep telling myself that or else I would keep having dreams about my patients turning into him.

I arrived at Arkham. I swiped my badge at the door and then punched in. I made my way up to the fourth floor and into my office. I unpacked my patient files and checked my schedule.

It looked as though, to my horror, my first session would be with Dr. Jonathan Crane. I made my way up to the fifth floor and into therapy session room 2. Moments later, Dr. Crane was shuffled into the room by a staff member and the door was locked behind him. He sat down in the chair across the table from me. This was clearly not his first session. I read from his profile that he had been admitted nearly four years ago and he was documented as having made little progress since then—this was why he was put onto my caseload. Great.

"Good morning Dr. Crane," I greeted him as friendly as possible. I couldn't help but jump at his striking appearance. He had a very attractive face and expression as he sat there staring back at me. He smirked back at me.

"Good morning Dr. DiMarco," he mistakenly greeted me in return. I blushed slightly and then averted my eyes.

"I'm not a doctor," I corrected him quickly, looking back at him.

"Oh, my mistake," he replied, still grinning.

"No problem, you can call me Dr. DiMarco if you feel more comfortable doing so—otherwise I have no qualms with you calling me Giada,"

"Alright then, Dr. DiMarco," he responded. I sighed at his response, hoping he would have taken to the less formal route for our first session, but I supposed it was the better of the two routes he could have opted for. As he sat across from me in the orange patient jumpsuit, I could still imagine him wearing a suit and tie—back when he actually held the title of Doctor.

"You don't need to call me Dr. Crane either," he said finally, almost as though he could read my thoughts, "call me Jonathan,"

"Right, will do, Jonathan," I responded with a slight smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I shuffled through some of my papers and read though the notes I had taken on him last night in the confines of my apartment. I then glanced back up at him.

"So I understand here from your papers you've been admitted here approximately four years ago and that prior to this, you were a doctor of psychology…a psychiatrist?" I asked.

"That is all correct," he responded. I was nervous to be working with a psychiatrist. It was going to be like doing therapy on Dr. Gerard. He held a much more disciplined educational background in the field than I did—I felt intimidated. I think he sensed my intimidation.

"Dr. DiMarco, I was more of a research specialist—I developed new drugs…as you might have read. I didn't do work with patients," he said suddenly. I nodded my head.

"Right," I said finally, licking my lips. I sighed, looking through his papers. Finally, I looked up and caught his gaze. I was in control. I could do this.

"So tell me, Jonathan," I spoke purposefully, "why a scarecrow?"

My session with Dr. Crane was more successful than I had anticipated it being—he was far less intimidating after speaking with him for our session. And what was even better, he understood the routine and answered each of my questions. I wasn't sure on his diagnosis, but I figured it would take me a bit longer for me to get to that bit. The best part of the session—he had no hallucinating drugs that turned him into the Joker.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The days and nights passed as they always had. I spent my days in the asylum seeing my five patients and I spent my nights taking notes and analyzing the sessions. Luckily they were tape recorded. This made my life a whole lot easier. On the weekends, Bruce would come over to my apartment to keep my company. I would make us dinner and we would watch movies, play board games or do other platonic activities. He was truly my best friend. I knew that I could never take the place of Rachel, but I think our friendship was doing good for the both of us. I had no agenda of ever being a replacement for Rachel and I know he knew he could never be a replacement for the Joker. We had a mutual understanding of these things and I think that was what kept us both from falling in love with one another. I was glad because there was no way I could ever love anyone else the way I loved the Joker. My heart was damaged and what was left of it only beat for him. It was such a sad situation!

In any case, Bruce was able to keep tabs on the Joker at nights. He would inform me when I asked about the Joker, but always reluctantly.

"Bruce, have you seen the Joker at all lately?" I asked on night, several months since our return to Gotham.

Bruce stiffened in his seat before answering, "Yes, I have—but he doesn't really know I've been back to Gotham," Bruce explained.

"How can he not? He's the Joker! He knows everything!" I exclaimed, my mind slipping back briefly into my criminal mindset he had so easily taught me.

"Giada, no one in Gotham knows where Batman is—I've been keeping very stealthy—I don't want the Joker knowing I'm back,"

"Why not?! Don't you want to capture him? I am sure he's lost without you in his life!" I stated, certain that the Joker has been going through Batman withdrawal. His life must be miserable without Batman in it!

"Well that's _his_ problem," Bruce responded coldly. I was silent, almost forgetting that they were arch-nemeses.

"You know, he haunts me in my sleep still," I spoke finally.

"Is that so? I would think Pixie Dust would do that more than the Joker," Bruce chuckled.

"Well that's why I asked you if you'd seen him around at all—because up until last night, I dreamt the same dream—where my five original patients turned into the Joker while in therapy and they try to cut my face—but last night, I dreamt I was with Dr. Crane and he sprayed me like he does every night, and he turned into the Joker, but then rather than Alberto cutting my face, Dr. Crane approached me, ready to cut my face. He leaned close in as though he was going to kiss me, then he pulled away and he melted into Pixie Dust—he was holding her dust in one hand and a knife in the other. Edward Nygma was the Joker standing behind her and he told her to cut my face—I screamed and woke up,"

Bruce said nothing. He nodded his head as thought trying to analyze what it meant, but I think he knew exactly what it meant. I slammed my head against the table. I just realized I violated HIPPA in telling my story—breeched patient confidentiality. Luckily Bruce thought I was just distressed from the dream.

"Funny you should have that dream then—yes Pixie is still with the Joker. I saw them last night in an alley heading towards downtown. I decided to follow them only because I hadn't seen them about recently, which is highly unlike either of them—then again, the Joker is completely unpredictable. I'm surprised he hasn't killed her off yet—must be her dust or something. I'm going to look into that for you, Giada. Anyway, I followed them but I lost track of them. It wasn't until I heard cop cars and sirens that I found their track. I followed the sirens and came across the museum of natural science—there was shattered glass everywhere—" Bruce paused, his face turning white.

"What is it Bruce?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of Pixie and the Joker robbing museums together.

"I couldn't find them after that—I don't know what happened to them—if they were caught or not—they probably weren't, but I am not too sure," Bruce stated.

"I bet they escaped," I said finally, assuredly. The Joker never got caught unless he planned to.

"This was the first time I'd really seen them in action since we've been back—I'd heard through the grapevine about other crimes they've committed both while we were away and when we'd gotten back, but last night was really the first night I've seen them," Bruce restated.

"Shattered glass you say," I responded.

"Yes—they broke into the museum," Bruce said.

"That's not very Joker-like—what could he possibly want inside of a museum?" I asked.

"I think it was a Pixie idea, to be honest," Bruce explained.

I chuckled at the thought of her. She made me so angry. "Shattered glass. What a stupid bitch,"


	40. The Manila Folder

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40. The Manila Folder

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Disclaimer: I am so glad you are all liking the story so far! No worries—the shit will hit the fan soon for Pixie!! Ha ha ha ha he he ha ha ho he ha…

I glanced over at the clock on the wall. The hands on the clock pointed to 9:45. I sat at my desk, idly tapping my pen. I think I was developing that nervous habit as a waited anxiously for 10:00 to come—my first session of each day. I wondered what Dr. Crane would tell me today. I bit my lip and glanced down at the manila folder sitting on top of my other papers. It was hypnotizing—the forbidden folder titled "Confidential". Dr. Gerard had dropped it off this morning but had strictly instructed me to wait until 11:30 to open it with him. I assumed it was more information on Dr. Crane—new from the police archives or something like that. Dr. Crane had seemed a bit anxious the past few sessions I had seen him and I assumed this folder full of information was why.

The hands on the clock ticked slowly towards the 9:50 mark. Only five minutes had passed. Good lord! I continued tapping my pen against the desk. I closed my eyes for a moment and took in a deep resonating breath. I thought back to the last conversation I had had with Bruce a couple of days ago—the one about the Joker and Pixie robbing the museum of natural history. I couldn't wrap my brain around it—I had been thinking about it non-stop since Bruce informed me of the crime, but there was nothing I could remember about the Joker that I knew of that would even point to him robbing a museum—even if the Pixie bitch wanted to. Then again, the Joker was unpredictable—nothing about him could be taken for truth—nothing he did could be taken as something he may or may not do again. I had to keep that in mind when thinking about him, when analyzing him. It was just as likely for him to rob a museum as it is for him to kill any random person on the street. I guess it made perfect sense as to why he'd rob a bank—there was no sense to it! _That_ was exactly the way the Joker thought.

I smiled softly to myself. I hadn't quite lost my knack for thinking like the Joker—not completely anyway. I glanced down again at the forbidden manila folder. Breathing in a quick breath, I reached out and took it in my hands. It was thick—full of papers and packets for me to read, no doubt. I turned it over to see if the seal was broken, by any chance. The seal was in tact and tape covered that seal. Damn. I turned it back over and placed it back exactly as it had been placed down on my desk nearly two hours ago. I looked back up at my good old friend on the wall. It was nearly 10.

"I guess I'll go see Dr. Crazy now," I said aloud to myself as I stood to my feet and left my office.

"Good morning Dr. DiMarco," Jonathan greeted me from inside the therapy room. I closed the door behind me.

"Sorry to keep you waiting—I thought I was going to be early this morning," I chuckled as I took my seat across from him.

"Nope—I was even earlier, as you can see," he grinned at me. My heart skipped a beat at his expression. I could never get over how attractive he was—though I was complete put off by his over-zealous and smug responses. I had wanted to put him through a wall two days ago when he told me the reason he developed hallucinogenic drugs was in order to keep the rest of society under his thumb. He was a brilliant man, there was no getting around that—but there was no reason for him to flaunt it—his brilliance had landed him in an asylum—real brilliant, Dr. Crane.

"Clearly. Let's get started then, shall we?" I offered calmly.

"Indeed," he responded, still grinning. I looked down at my Dr. Crane folder and then back up at him. Taken back by his continued grin, I shut the folder.

"Why are you grinning at me, Jonathan? Is there something you'd like me to know?" I asked, trying to keep my cool.

"Nothing in particular—just that you must really have your hands full, dealing with Gotham's criminals and all," he said, raising his eyebrows and smirking even wider.

"As far as you know, you're my only patient who has allegedly criminalized Gotham and its citizens," I replied.

"Dr. DiMarco, the patients around here talk—I know you're also treating Alberto and Edward—it's no secret, you know," he stated.

"Yes, well under HIPPA laws, it is—as is the information you tell me and what they tell me—all of it is confidential—being a psychiatrist, I would think you should be aware of said laws," I replied professionally.

"Yes, I am aware of those laws, but as I stated before to you, I was a research psychiatrist—not a practicing one like you, Dr. DiMarco," he pointed out.

"Well, to be fair, Jonathan, I'm not a psychiatrist, remember?" I let out a small smile, "can we continue?"

"Yes," he said, "let's go on—you've got quite a day ahead of you, I'm sure," He smirked again. Frustrated, I looked back down at my folder and then back up at him. His smirk was finally gone.

The session with Dr. Crane was cooperative, as usual, but surprisingly smug—more so than usual. He made several comments on Gotham's criminals and the number of them who are ending up here in the asylum. I kept assuring him that I only had three criminal patients and the other psychiatrists had only a couple others.

I left the room feeling anxious and antsy about the session and what Dr. Crane had been talking about—his smirks and his smug responses. I had almost completely forgotten about the manila folder sitting idly on my desk—until I walked into my office and saw it sitting there. I lump formed in my throat as I sat down in the chair. I glanced up at my friend on the wall and saw that the time was nearly 11:30. My heart beat quickly in anticipation for Dr. Gerard to make his appearance—for the manila folder to reveal its secrets to me.

The knock came at my door at exactly 11:30. I jumped up quickly, then sat back down.

"Come on in!" I called finally, throwing my pen down to the desk.

"Giada, good afternoon," Dr. Gerard greeted me. I smiled back at him.

"Good afternoon,"

"Did you have a good morning so far?" he asked, taking a seat across from me in one of the large green chairs in front of my desk.

"Yes, I did," I responded. I had wanted to discuss Dr. Crane with Dr. Gerard, but I was too anxious and eager to see what was in the manila folder.

"Good. Well, I don't want to ruin that good morning by giving you a bad afternoon, Giada, but I suppose this could go either way for you. I don't want to scare you or anything, but I am sure that this will be something you can handle—I just want to prepare you before you saw anything that made you uneasy in that manila folder—that's why I wanted you to wait for me until now before you looked at it," Dr. Gerard explained. I think he saw the expression on my face—the nervousness and the angst.

"Is it something bad?" I asked, taking in a deep breath.

"Well, it's something that we need to discuss before we proceed with anything. What is inside this folder is very serious and important—but I trust you as a therapist and clinician that you can handle this responsibly and with great detail, Giada," Dr. Gerard continued.

"Thank you," I said, feeling my heart rise into my throat. There was no way this could be about Dr. Crane. This had to be something much more important—much more recent and dangerous. Dr. Gerard nodded his head, with a slight smile on his lips. He then reached for the manila envelope. With one quick motion, he ripped off the top and slid out the packet of information. He took one look at it before handing it over to me.

"Take you time in making a decision. I understand if you feel you can't take the case," Dr. Gerard explained as he handed it over to me.

I took the packet in my hands and finally laid my eyes upon the forbidden fruit of the morning. What I saw instantly made my heart drop into my stomach. I felt all of the blood drain from my face as I gazed upon the mug shot—the Joker.

"I see you've perhaps heard of the mayhem this man has caused Gotham," Dr. Gerard said finally, noticing my ghost-like face and expression.

I couldn't even get my voice to make a sound—any sound at all. My voice had escaped me entirely. The Joker was here in Arkham—the Joker was here, in my place of work, as a resident—on MY caseload. I couldn't breathe.

"Giada, is everything alright?" Dr. Gerard asked me finally, seeing this packet of information seriously affected me.

I took in a deep breath and mustered all the strength I could find.

"Yes, I'm fine," I squeaked.

"I know this man has been on the news and has done horrific things to this city and its people—I understand if you feel you cannot take him onto your caseload, but I do urge you to please think it over before you make any rash decisions," Dr. Gerard explained.

"No, Dr. Gerard—I can't—I really cannot work with a man of this caliber, I really don't think I am ready or even able to help someone like him," I said quickly as I shoved the packet back into the manila folder. I had never been so eager to get rid of something that had once seemed so alluring. Dr. Gerard nodded his head silently for a moment.

"I understand," he spoke finally, "but you feel you've changed your mind, don't hesitate to let me know—I'll need to know by Friday,"

I nodded my head in agreement, "thank you," I murmured. Dr. Gerard pursed his lips together, stood from the chair and left my office.

I shrank back into my chair, wanting to force away the tears that were building up behind my eyes. I couldn't believe that the Joker had somehow managed to force his way back into my life—not even because he wanted to, but because my luck was just that bad. I glanced up at the evil clock. It was almost time for my lunch break, but I had lost any appetite I might have had prior to the revelation of the manila folder. I didn't have my next therapy session until after lunch, so I decided to look at the packet again. I removed the Joker's information from the packet and flipped through a few of the pages.

I skimmed the text, seeing nothing that didn't surprise me. I knew all of the endeavors that were listed and described. I flipped the page and skimmed the police report. I wanted to know when he was admitted and why he was admitted as opposed to being sent to the GPD or county.

What I read nearly stopped my heart. I almost forgot to breathe.

_Sent to Arkham Asylum for further evaluation. Most likely is imitating insanity in order to escape imprisonment_.

I knew very well that the Joker was not "insane" as it were, but he certainly had a different way of seeing things and of dealing with things. It made sense to me that he would be admitted here as a means of escaping county. I guess I hadn't given him as much credit as he deserved. I should have known that he would try something like this eventually; I guess I just always assumed I'd be _with_ him rather than the one _treating_ him.

I felt my blood fuming beneath my face. Quite the opposite reaction from the one I had when I found out he was here in Arkham. I was so angry with him. I couldn't even comprehend his motives. I wondered if Pixie had been caught too—if she was in prison or if she was also here in Arkham. I'd have rather been on her case—I would dope her up on tranquilizers to shut her up so I wouldn't have to hear her squeaky and horrible voice. How he put up with her ugly voice, I'll never know!

The rest of the day flew by. I met with Edward Nygma at 1:30. Like Dr. Crane, Edward smirked often joked around about Gotham's criminals. I understood, as the alleged "Riddler" spoke to me, why Dr. Crane had been the same way—they all knew the Joker had been admitted and was assigned to my caseload.

I left the "Riddler" fuming. How could my patients have known about the Joker before I did?! Leaving my anger behind, I put on my game face and saw the rest of my patients.

I returned home that evening to Bruce Wayne standing inside my apartment.

"Well this is a surprise," I said as I shut the door behind me and set my things down on the round wooden table. Bruce remained silent as I removed the manila folder from my bag and handed it to him.

"Look at this, Bruce," I spoke as he took it from my hand and removed the documents from inside. He glanced over the papers and nodded his head.

"Giada, I have no doubt in my mind that the night I saw the Joker at the museum was the night he was arrested. I don't know how he managed to get out of going to jail this time, but it looks like he'd had it planned all along," Bruce explained.

"Yeah, but I can't figure out where Pixie is for the life of me! I checked the databases at work and she's not listed anywhere in Arkham—did she accept imprisonment?" I asked.

"From the looks of things, no. She's still out there. I am not entirely sure how she managed to get away while the Joker was caught,"

"Maybe that was her plan—to get the Joker caught while she got away—there is no good reason for him to rob from a museum—I bet Pixie set him up!" I exclaimed, suddenly enraged.

"Well we can't prove anything, Giada. All I can assume is that the Joker was assigned to your caseload. Am I right?" Bruce asked.

"Yes, but I told Dr. Gerard to switch him. Bruce, there's no way I can handle that," I explained.

"Good—I was going to tell you to do that," he chuckled. We both smiled briefly, then Bruce turned to the window.

"Where are you going?" I asked, hoping he would stay for dinner.

"Batman's got some investigating to do," he said with a smile, then his face turned serious. I nodded my head. I could certain understand that. The manila folder of doom was left for me to antagonize over for the rest of my evening—alone.


	41. Out From Under

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41. Out From Under

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That night, I remained in bed, staring at the ceiling. I went through all of the possible scenarios in my head that we perhaps running through the Joker's; why he decided to go along with Pixie's ploy to rob the museum; why he decided to get caught; maybe he didn't decide to get caught; maybe it was all his idea to rob that museum; why he decided to end up in Arkham rather than the GPD prison like last time. I just couldn't wrap my brain around everything that flowed endlessly through my head. The possibilities seemed endless.

I rolled over finally and saw that it was 2:30 in the morning. I had literally spent four hours pondering the Joker's motives. This was the definition of insanity—thinking incessantly about the motives of an alleged crazy person. There had to be around this.

The next morning when I walked into the doors of Arkham, I knew that there was no way I would be able to concentrate on anything with him in the confines of the asylum. I didn't even know where his room was, which was good; but just knowing he was in such close proximity to me drove me, ironically, utterly insane. I somehow managed to make it all the way to my office without even consciously knowing I was walking there. I sat down at my desk and looked up at the fiendish clock. It was not even 8:00. Damn. I hated being early, especially when I had time on my hands to think!

I began tapping my pen as I waited for the computer to load. It took forever. I was beginning to think I could run down the hall, find the Joker's room and be back in my office before it even loaded.

I stopped at the thought. Finding the Joker's room. He was here, after all. I could find his room if I wanted to. I tapped the pen faster as I considered the thought. Why would I want to find his room? It's not as thought I could talk to him—it's not as if he'd remember me anyway. My heart cringed at the memory of our last moment together. I didn't want to feel that pain again—what good would it do me now?

I glared up at the clock again. It was still not even close to being 8:00. I let out a loud sigh and finally typed in my password into the computer. The stupid manila folder sat on my desk, staring hard at me. I glared back at it in return.

"There is nothing you can do to make me find his room," I told the manila folder out loud. I sat there, still glaring at it as though it were going to give me an angry verbal response. I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't believe I was talking aloud to the manila folder—an inanimate object, as it were. There was no doubt in my mind that I had begun to go stark raving mad. I quickly logged into the Arkham database and typed in "Joker" into the engine. A couple of ID numbers appeared on the screen. I wasn't sure which one was him, so I removed the paperwork from the angry manila folder and matched the ID to one on the screen. 4479.

"Bingo," I said as I jotted it down onto a post-it. I placed the packet back into the manila folder.

"There, are you happy now?" I asked the folder as I stood to my feet and dashed quickly out of my office. I briskly made my way down the hallway to the stairwell. I slid my ID badge into the card slot. The door unlocked itself for me and I ran up the two flights of stairs to the sixth floor. I swiped my badge again, the door opened, and I slid out of the stairwell and onto the main floor. My heart raced as I walked down the hallway, quickly eyeing the various rooms and matching the ID numbers to the one scratched haphazardly on my yellow post-it.

Just when I thought I searched the entire floor, 4479 stood out like a beacon. My heart nearly stopped. I forgot how to breath again as I looked at the metal door that separated me from him. I stood far enough away from the glass window that was etched into the metal frame of the door so that I could not see inside. I wondered if he was still asleep. My heart fluttered at one of my memories of him asleep. It was one from a while back—the first time I had ever seen him asleep, defenseless and without make up. He looked so beautiful; he had such a handsome face. I thought that maybe I could live without him and those memories—despite the fact they caused me complete and utter pain, I couldn't help but dream about the things that never were. There was no way I could have him on my caseload—just in that moment, I realized from my reaction, that I would not be able to get through a session without feeling pain for the memories that led to nothing. I went to turn away from the Joker's room, but something else caught my eye: a pair of chestnut down eyes peering back at me behind a mask of black and white face paint. My heart stopped. I quickly averted my gaze and glanced down at the room number again. 4479. Suddenly, I noticed underneath 4479 was another name: property of Dr. Princeton.

Oh this was bad. Dr. Princeton was the most biased psychiatrist on Arkham—he believed any criminal within the confines of Arkham deserved nothing better than a prison cell and the electric chair. I couldn't believe Dr. Gerard would assign the Joker to Dr. Princeton when he was originally assigned to me. Maybe Dr. Princeton had requested the Joker for the mere purpose of proving his sanity in order to send him to back to prison and allegedly, death row.

I looked back up at the window in the door. The eyes were still staring back at me, but this time I could see more of his face. I took in a slow breath. In that moment, I made a life altering decision. I glanced back at the ID next to the door, more specifically, at Dr. Princeton's name. The Joker saw where my eyes had averted to because when I glanced back at him, he was trying to see the ID tag I had been looking at. He then looked back at me. He looked curious, almost questioning. I ran down the hall away from the Joker and the room that contained him. I ran faster than I could possibly run until I made it to the stairwell. It was my major concern that I get to Dr. Gerard's room before anyone else.

To my dismay, Dr. Gerard's door was closed. Anxiously, I stumbled back to my office and sat down at my desk. It was 8:30. I opened up the Arkham system email and plunked out an email to Dr. Gerard. Almost immediately, I got a response; he was out of the office today. Fuck it all! No doubt Dr. Princeton would be meeting with the Joker this morning, or this afternoon. Maybe I could intercept him. Maybe I could let him know I changed my mind and that the Joker was still my patient—that Dr. Gerard gave me until Friday to change my mind. I glanced at my calendar. Friday was tomorrow. I gasped. How could Dr. Gerard be absent today of all days?! How could I ever get Dr. Princeton to give up the Joker? There was no way he would ever give up a patient like that, not unless it was Dr. Gerard's request.

I sat down at my desk and tapped my pen. I had to think of something, even if I knew it would hurt me; even if I knew he wouldn't remember me. I had to get him back onto my caseload. I would not let Dr. Princeton prove his sanity and send him to his death. I would never let that happen. I just had to get out from under all of this mess.

At 10:00, I went to see Dr. Crane. He seemed pleasantly surprised this morning, for whatever reason. I guess word had gotten out that the Joker was no longer on my caseload.

"Dr. DiMarco, you refused the most wanted criminal in Gotham," Dr. Crane mused.

"This is not up for discussion, sorry Jonathan," I replied calmly. I needed to remain professionally. No doubt Dr. Crane would go back to the other patients and inform them of the things he'd talked about in our session, which was SO against HIPPA.

"Why did you do that? You do know that he's doomed now that he's with Dr. Princeton, don't you?" Dr. Crane continued, ignoring my earlier comment.

"Well, unfortunately, that is up to Dr. Princeton to decide," I spoke curtly. "Let's get to work,"

"It's too bad, Giada—you would have truly enjoyed working with the Joker—brilliant man," Jonathan said finally, actually calling me by my first name. I looked up at him, almost in shock.

"I suppose that may have been true," I responded flatly. I fought hard through that session not to bombard Dr. Crane with numerous questions about the Joker. To my surprise, I did make it through the session being the effective clinician I hoped to be. Unfortunately, that afternoon, Edward Nygma was full of riddles and questions and hyperbole regarding the Joker. Without my prodding, Edward very casually and openly discussed with me his relationship with the Joker.

"I knew the Joker—he found me and with just one conversation, I understood all he meant—he turned me into the Riddler—who I am, today," Edward spoke with pride. I wanted to ask him more about this, but I knew it was against the code of ethics—it was also against my therapeutic plan for "the Riddler".

It wasn't until it was 4:00 that I found myself sitting at my desk again, tapping. It seemed all I did in my spare time at work was tap my stupid pen. But I was hard in thought—how I could possibly get the Joker onto my caseload. I had to be crazy and I had to get out from under. I would get the Joker onto my caseload if it was the last thing I did.

I checked my email for the hundredth time. Still nothing back from Dr. Gerard. My heart sank a bit, but I knew it wasn't the end. I would have to tell him tomorrow—provided that he doesn't another day off.


	42. Tomorrow

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42. Tomorrow

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_Disclaimer: YOU ALL MAKE ME SMILEEEEE!!!! You all make me outrageously happy with all your reviews!!!!! I hope that I keep putting smiles on all your lovely faces hehehehe! _

My alarm clock screeched through my final phase of REM sleep. My eyes groggily opened. I could feel the haze of exhaustion that clouded my brain. After all of my deliberating the day before, I had neglected to realize just how exhausted I really was. If only Bruce had been there to remind me! As I slowly rolled out of bed, I smiled at the thought of Bruce. It felt like I hadn't seen him in so long. I wondered if I should tell him about the Joker possibly ending back up on my caseload after all—at my request. I thought maybe I should tell him, but leave that last bit out. He wouldn't be terribly pleased with my decision, but I knew at the same time he couldn't stop me from doing what I wanted in regards to the Joker—he knew how I felt for him and that there was no way he could stop my love this crazed clown.

On my way inside the asylum, my heart began pounding. I wondered if Dr. Gerard would be in today and if he had gotten my message. I hurriedly swiped my badge hastily made my way up to my office. I unlocked and swung the door open with a vengeance. I was committed to the hope I would log into my email and find an unread message from Dr. Gerard regarding my new patient, the Joker.

I sat down in my chair and quickly booted up my computer. I had forgotten just how slowly it loads. I sat there and tapped my pencil. Maybe I should go and check on the Joker—just to make sure his room was still there up on the sixth floor, patient 4479 with his name listed as "unknown". I smiled at the thought. _I_ knew his real name. I giggled aloud in my seat.

"Jack Napier," I said aloud finally, twisting in my swivel chair, still waiting for the computer to load. Just as I picked up my pen to begin tapping, the screen loaded and I quickly reached for the mouse and clicked on the Arkham Asylum logo. The system loaded and I typed in my password. I had four new emails. My heart raced at the announcement, but it stopped suddenly as I saw that none were from Dr. Gerard. My heart rose into my throat then plummeted into the fiery depths of my pitted stomach. I could feel the acid devouring it slowly. Maybe it was just acid reflux, but something didn't feel normal to me.

Quickly, without thinking twice, I ran from my office. I flew to the stairwell doors, slid my card and ran up the two flights of stairs to the sixth floor. I checked my watch. I still had time—Dr. Princeton wouldn't be meeting with the Joker for another twenty minutes. I knew he was first on Dr. Princeton's list, which meant first session of the day. If I beat him up there, I could get the Joker out of his room and begin my own session with him—I had to try and do _something_.

I ran down the hall and turned the corner. I saw the Joker's room. It was clear—a line drive in front of me. I slowed to a brisk walk, trying to catch my breath in an attempt at not showing my hasty desperation at getting to him.

I stopped just outside his door. The lettering on the ID tag next to the door caught my eyes. "Unknown. 4479. Dr. Princeton" I paused for a moment and imaged my name scrawled onto the ID in place of Dr. Princeton's. A small grin crossed my face. I raised my hand up to the door, ready to swipe my badge into the security setting.

"Good morning, Giada," Dr. Princeton said from behind me. I lowered my hand casually, as though I thought nothing of the situation.

"Good morning, Dr. Princeton," I greeted with a friendly smile. He looked irritated and somewhat amused by his finding.

"What are you doing, Miss DiMarco? You do realize that this is against asylum policy—you intruding on _my_ patient like this," Dr. Princeton remarked as a small grin crossed his face. Luckily, the Joker taught me to think quickly on my feet. I hoped he could hear our conversation.

"I don't know what you mean, doctor," I said as professionally as possible, "but I was operating under the information that patient 4479 was on _my_ caseload,"

Dr. Princeton shifted his stance and glared back at the door before us. He then glanced back at me, "I suppose Dr. Gerard failed to inform you he has been switched to my caseload,"

"Well that must be the case, since Dr. Gerard has been absent. Make no mistake, doctor, I have every intention of working with the Jo…Mr…patient 4479 on my caseload, as was planned. I suppose it would be fair for me to allow you to begin therapy with…patient 4479, but when Dr. Gerard returns, I think we need to have a discussion about this, seeing as I never formally rejected this patient from my caseload and Dr. Gerard told me I had until today to make a final decision,"

"You plan on _allowing_ me to assume therapy with this patient?" Dr. Princeton looked insulted. I guess I hadn't chosen my words wisely. If I were him, I would feel just as insulted with that wording.

"My apologies, Dr. Princeton. That was rude of me. I didn't mean for it to come out that way—I know you're a world renowned psychiatrist and truly have every right to want to continue therapy with patient 4479, but I do urge you to consider the legalities of the matter—that patient 4479 was assigned to _me_…originally—and with all do respect, sir, by having you begin therapy with the patient could ultimately taint my own therapy sessions and the plans I have for the direction for each session,"

"This is an outrage! You're not even a doctor, Miss DiMarco! Why a patient like him would be assigned to you instantly is beyond me! I…I will have words with Dr. Gerard, _indefinitely" _he sneered.

"What's this? What's going on here?" Dr. Gerard's voice eased my worried mind. I felt my tense body relax immediately.

"Miss _DiMarco_ here was trying to rob me of my patient here and then told me that she would _allow _me to resume therapy despite the fact he's her patient! This is an outrage, and utter outrage!" Dr. Princeton spat quickly.

"Please, Dr. Princeton, come to my office—I understand the matter of the situation at hand and I think we need to have a conversation. Giada, I understand you have a session with Dr. Crane soon—I think it's best you attend to your current caseload for today. We'll discuss this situation on Monday when I have had time to sort this all out," Dr. Gerard explained to me in calm voice. I nodded my head.

"Thank you, Dr. Gerard," I said and quickly turned and left. How was I ever going to wait until Monday?!

When I was sitting back in my office, I finally breathed a small sigh of relief. That certainly didn't go over as I had planned. At least Dr. Gerard was here, though. Hopefully he was talking to that bitch Dr. Princeton about how he's a pompous asshole and that he needs lay low for a while. I shook my head when I looked at the clock. This was going to be a horrifically long day. I had to put my game face on. I was twenty seven years old—not some petulant child. Acting like one wasn't going to get me anywhere or anything I wanted. If was going to get the things I wanted, I didn't need to act like a child—I needed to act like a criminal—or a psychiatric nurse practitioner; whichever I could get a handle on better.

As I sat and listened to Dr. Crane and my other two patients before lunch, I really started believing I was going to need to be what the Joker was: an agent of chaos. But the one question that plagued my every thought still remained—was he still under Pixie's memory spell? Was that something that could ever be reversed? My heart sank at the thought.

I remained in my office during lunch, sick with anxiety and unable to eat. It was then that I decided to do something else. I called Bruce.

"Giada? What's up? Aren't you at the asylum?" Bruce asked when he picked up.

"Yes—lunch break," I chuckled, "how are you, buddy?"

"I'm just fine—just got out of a meeting, actually," he laughed back with me, "well this was an unexpected surprise,"

His voice brought chills down my anxiety-ridden spine. It was always a beautiful thing to hear Bruce's voice of calm and clear wisdom.

"Yeah, I wanted to hear your voice—I was thinking about you last night and it felt like a while since we'd talked," I spoke finally. There was silence on his end of the phone. I hoped I hadn't offended him or given him the wrong idea.

"I'm glad you called, Giada," he said finally, "I've missed you as well, even though it's only been a few days," he chuckled. I think he knew the real reason I called, aside from the immediate truth, which was that I needed to hear this voice and that I missed him—but that I was stressing out hardcore about the Joker being on my caseload. I couldn't break that news to him yet. He'd probably want to put me through a wall, but I knew he wouldn't.

"Oh Giada, I don't mean to cut you short, but it looks as though I've got another meeting to run to. I'll call you tonight—we can have dinner at my place," he offered.

"Sure thing," I responded with a smile.

"Bye,"

"Ciao bello," I hung up the phone. I sat back in my chair. How the hell was I ever going to get through the rest of the day? How was I going to get through the weekend? I really hoped Bruce and I could have dinner and talk about fun things and watch movies and just forget about work.

That was exactly what we did. Bruce had me over at 6:30. We ate a fantastic dinner and watched Star Wars. It made us both excited to see the action packed lives of other people who weren't us. We joked around a bit about him being somewhat of a super hero and all of the "villains" he had here in Gotham. He promised that we would get together on Saturday and Sunday. I think he could tell I was still stressing underneath my calmer façade on the outside.

"I can tell something is bothering you, Giada, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said finally on Sunday.

"I didn't want to tell you Bruce, but I'm finding it increasingly harder to hide things from you," I released finally.

"Try me," he spoke with a smile.

"As you know, the Joker is in the asylum and he was originally on my caseload but I told Dr. Gerard to change that because there is no way I can handle something like that. Well, on Wednesday, I kind of snapped a bit and went and found the Joker's room and saw that Dr. Princeton was placed on his case. Now, I had until Friday to make my decision final, so I emailed Dr. Gerard and told him I wanted the Joker back onto my caseload—I don't know why—I think I'm going crazy. Anyway, Dr. Gerard wasn't in on Thursday and on Friday, I did something even more idiotic—I went to the Joker's room and went to swipe my card to get in and begin a therapy sessions and Dr. Princeton caught me! In any event, it didn't end well—the conversation—and Dr. Gerard caught us fighting and now he's going to give me his final answer on Monday as to whether I can have the Joker on my caseload or not," I explained in full, nearly breathless by the end.

Bruce didn't look pleased, to say the least. But he breathed in a long breath and released it.

"I can't tell you how to do your job, Giada. I trust you and I trust your judgment—no matter how skewed it may seem to me at times," he said finally with a grin. I smiled back at him.

"Thanks Bruce. You're a real friend," I stated, finally feeling some of my stress lifted. I kissed him on the cheek good-bye and he left. Monday was less than 10 hours away.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There was a knock at my door. Dr. Gerard. My heart stopped, "hey Bruce, I'm sorry to cut this short, but my superior is here—we're having a small meeting. I'll call you when I get home tonight,"

"Come in!" I called to the door—my favorite inanimate object friend.

"Hi Giada, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he said, looking around the room as though he expected someone to be in here with me.

"No, I just was getting off the phone with a friend of mine," I said as I took a sip of water from my water bottle.

"Oh, okay, good," he said as he took a seat across from me. This situation reminded me a lot of Monday when I had discovered the manila folder's dark secret.

"So what's the verdict?" I asked as calmly as possible and tried to remain cool and professional.

"Well, I spoke to Dr. Princeton, and mind you, he was _not _happy—I'm not entirely happy either with the situation; Giada, you knew patient 4479 was Dr. Princeton's for the time being,"

"No, actually I didn't know until I went up there to check things out and saw his name on the ID tag—you told me had until today to make my decision and I had made my decision yesterday," I responded back.

"Regardless, Dr. Princeton was truly upset by your actions…and words. It was difficult calming him down, but I managed. It was even harder getting him to give up the patient to you even though he was originally yours," Dr. Gerard paused as though he were waiting for my consent to go on. I nodded my head for him to advance.

"I've come to an indefinite conclusion for the matter," he spoke firmly. My heart began to tremble. This was just what I feared—he would either keep the Joker with Princeton or take him onto his own caseload to avoid a colleague feud.

"What is that conclusion?" I asked trying to remain calm.

"As a compromise to keep Dr. Princeton happy…and you happy as well, I've decided to give you both patient 4479—you will be working under Dr. Princeton with this patient. He will meet with him for therapy sessions on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and you will meet with him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You will follow his physicians orders but you will also be able to discuss with him treatment plans and medication while also having your own therapy sessions free of Dr. Princeton—those are the Tuesday/Thursday sessions I just mentioned. I'm sorry I couldn't remove him entirely from Dr. Princeton's caseload, but he did make a good point—you are still fairly new here and this patient is quite a handful. He said he will have no problem with you working with him on this case. I hope this pleases you somewhat,"

I nodded my head and forced a smile.

"Well since today is Monday, it looks like therapy begins for you tomorrow," he said finally, standing from the chair. I nodded my head again.

"Yes, it does," I spoke.

"Good luck. If you need anything, you know where my office is. I'm terrible with email," he added on with a smile as he left the door.

I sat back in my chair. It was official. The Joker was mine. Well, half mine. Therapy started tomorrow. Tomorrow I would see the Joker and speak with him for the first time in two years.


	43. Foolish Games

~*~*~

43. Foolish Games

~*~*~

_Disclaimer: So I watched the Golden Globes last night and Heath won for best supporting actor. Call me crazy, but I wanted to cry—whenever I watch the Dark Knight, I always find it so hard to remember that it is Heath Ledger playing the role and not really a man who calls himself the Joker. It was so sad to me to realize that Heath has passed on, especially when Chris Nolan accepted the award for him. It was a bittersweet moment—sad but beautiful. But, without further ado, I give you the 43__rd__ chapter!! Thank you all for keeping with the story!!! This is definitely the most dedicated I've been to writing a story and aside from the fact I am blatantly in love with the Joker, your consistent reading and reviewing makes me even more excited to write more!! I owe you all!!!!!! My love to all of you!!_

All I could hear was the constant pounding of my heart inside my chest. I was pretty sure if my heart could beat any harder, it would escape through the scars on my chest and fall onto the floor in front of me as I walked down the hall. I had never been so brutally nervous to engage in a session with anyone in my entire life. I was pretty sure, as I walked down that hallway, that I would be less nervous standing entirely naked in front of Bruce Wayne, covered in peanut butter or something bizarre like that.

A small grin crossed my face at the horrible thought. It made me a little less nervous. I kept thinking about it until I reached the therapy session room. I paused outside of the door for a moment to gather my thoughts. I took my naked self covered in peanut butter along with Bruce behind and locked us behind a steel bank vault door. My trembling hand reached for my ID badge. It was going to be a 50/50 toss—either the Joker was inside, sitting there ready for me, or he was yet to come. I took in a long deep breath, swiped my badge and grabbed the door as it unlocked for me. I glided inside, making sure not to look at anything or anyone who may be in the room.

I slid quickly into the chair and forced myself to look up. To my dismay, the chair was empty. My heart quickened its rhythm as I realized I now had even longer to wait. I wished he had been sitting there, waiting for me. Maybe he didn't want me as his therapist—maybe he wouldn't show up to therapy today.

I began tapping my pen—a horrible habit I had formed. It was too late now to stop the habit—especially now that I was about to re-meet the Joker, the man who changed my life; the man who had a way of getting into my head like no one else I'd ever known. I had fallen so deeply in love with him that in that very moment, I wasn't sure I could be his therapist. This was impossible—absolutely hopeless. I was kidding myself if I could objectively provide therapy to the man I was in love with—a man who didn't even remember who I was after having spent the better part of more than a year with me. We had shared nearly everything together—and I was so sure he was close to loving me too.

I looked down at the Joker's psychiatric chart. My hand reached up to my neck and clutched onto the jade pendant he had given me so long ago. As soon as my hand grazed its smooth surface, the door buzzed. My heart jumped into my throat and the butterflies overwhelmed my stomach with their presence.

"You can take a seat in that chair over there—I'm sure you know the routine by now," the security guard, Rick, instructed the Joker as he shuffled over to the chair across the table from me.

"Dr. DiMarco, just page me when the session is over in an hour, is it?" Rick told me.

"I can walk him back my self when the session is over with—that is what I usually do with my other patients," I responded with a small smile.

"Fair enough. If he tries to take advantage of the situation, I won't be far," Rick replied, forcing a smile as his eyes grazed past me and landed on the Joker, who sat in the seat now across from me—a grin on his lips. "You hear me? Be nice to Dr. DiMarco—she's one of the best in this asylum," Rick said to the Joker finally.

"That's enough, Rick—thank you," I said quickly, catching his bright eyes with a smile. He returned my smile, nodded his head and left. The door locked into place behind him.

There we were—the two of us—alone. This once familiar setting—just he and I alone together—felt so alien to me now. I glanced down at his chart and forced myself to finally make eye contact—the first thing any good therapist does for effective communication. His expression caught me off guard. His face was painting, oddly enough, as it always was. I suppose they let him have his clown make up in his room—or he just snuck it with him. Anyway, his red painted lips were curled into a grin of satisfaction. I couldn't understand why that was. His dark chestnut brown eyes stared intently at me from behind that black paint.

Not able to take my gaze from his, I shifted uneasily in my chair, licked my lips and then forced myself to look away from him. I took in a deep breath, preparing myself to say something—begin the session—but I was nervous no sound would emit itself from my vocals.

"This is a pleasant surprise. I really can't stand that…bastard Princeton," he spoke finally, breaking the silence. He caught me off guard. I quickly re-adjusted my sitting position and gazed back at him. My eyebrows raised.

"Is that so?" I asked finally, trying to gain control of myself, "Well, unfortunately, you're still Dr. Princeton's patient—he and I will be working with you together—you still meet with him Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays,"

Had no one bothered to even tell him the game plan? I was instantly furious with Dr. Princeton for neglecting to inform his patient of who he was receiving therapy from!

"Well then I'll be looking forward to Tuesday and Thursday," he responded, licking his lips and sitting back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest. I still couldn't tell if he had his memory back. I felt that if he had, he would have been a bit friendlier towards me, but I didn't press the matter. I figured I would begin the session with the assumption things were no different than before I left.

"Excellent. Well, let's begin. It says here in your chart you were admitted here to Arkham after…robbing…a…museum," I cleared my throat. I couldn't believe that fact, still—how I hated Pixie!

"It also says that the new D.A. Tom Ferdinand visits every Friday—he's trying to get us to prove you're faking insanity so that he can throw you into County prison," I spoke as my eyes skimmed the text of his chart.

"Fridays are definitely not a day I tend to like—not compared to Tuesdays and Thursdays," he commented. My eyes darted back up to see him staring hard at me. The corners of his scared mouth were upturned into small smirk.

"Right—well tell me about that—tell me about Fridays and how they make you feel," I stated.

"Fridays, like you said, is when that scum from the D.A.'s office comes to talk to me. It's not something I care to talk about—he's not someone I care to talk to—much too boring. I'd much rather it be Harvey Dent!" he giggled at that last remark. When I didn't join in on his giggle fest, he stopped and watched me carefully. He thought hard to himself before he finally spoke again, careful to answer my question.

"Many people in this city think I'm crazy—and for all intensive purposes, I am crazy—but only crazy to those people who aren't able to see…see things the way I can," As he said this, he searched for my eyes with his. He licked his lips again, "See, being the only person in this city who thinks the way I do…well…it makes for some _boring_ days and nights. How else am I to keep myself entertained?"

"So in order to relieve yourself of boredom, you feel it necessary to kill people and rob…museums?" I asked, barely able to squeak out 'museums'.

"Look, the new D.A. will never…quite…be able to see things the way they really are—therefore he and I will never quite see things…eye to eye—if you get it, just say yes," he explained.

"Yes," I answered him. I understood him completely.

"So, maybe to you and the D.A.'s office…and the rest of Gotham's sweet little innocent civilians…think I am crazy. I'll admit it—I'm crazy. But see, _crazy_ is a funny word. See…people who are sane believe they are sane, which makes sense, right? But…people who are crazy…well, they believe they're sane too. In the end, it turns out the people who are sane who believe themselves to be crazy are really the sane ones," he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. I nodded my head in approval. He pretty much nailed it on the head. He wasn't crazy—he was sane but said he was crazy because he could tell the difference between sanity and insanity.

"See, I've been insane—most people have experienced some kind of…moment…in their lives…that caused them to be 'insane'. It are the insane who cannot ever truly experience a moment that causes them to be sane—to put things together into a logical and fair explanation. I just happen to like chaos—to me, if things…involve…chaos…things tend to make sense to me—not because I am crazy or insane or sane or anything, but because it is what I find…interesting,"

I was staring hard at him with my mouth open in astonishment. I had forgotten how much I loved hearing him talk—how much I loved hearing about the way he thinks.

"So, to answer your question…about how I _feel_ about Fridays, well, to be frank, I don't _feel_ anything but _chaos_ raging inside me—waiting to erupt into a madness that I don't even think Dr. Princeton could understand,"

"I…" I started to speak.

"But you…you could understand it. In fact, you _do_ understand it," he said finally. My heart skipped a beat. Did he remember me? Were all of our memories flooding though his brain as we spoke? I had to take advantage of this. I had to say something that maybe could prove my theory, but at the same time, catch me if I fell horribly.

"You used to say that to me," I said finally, catching his eyes with mine and then looking away.

He just laughed. I figured he didn't remember me. I quickly went to change the subject, but he beat me to it.

"So are you taking Christmas off or are you scheduled? It's suuuure going to get boring with no one to talk to!" he giggled finally. I hadn't checked. I had forgotten it was almost Christmas. It had literally been two years since we'd last spoken to each other—two years since that bittersweet night when I thought he was going to tell me he loved me, but then it turned horrible sour—when Pixie Dust erased his memory. I forced the memory from my mind.

"I haven't checked my schedule yet. I don't even know if the schedule is up yet for Christmas," I said finally, getting a bit off topic. I was getting tired of these foolish games already. I just wanted this to be over—for him to remember me, for him to hold me, kiss me; love me. I wanted things to go back to the way they were before that awful night two years ago.

"Well, Christmas surprises us all!" he exclaimed, nearly throwing his hands into the air. I forced a smile to my face.

"Right. Well sometimes Christmas surprises aren't what they seem," I replied, staring hard at him so that maybe he could remember. I was so helpless.

"You're absolutely…right, Giada. Sometimes surprises aren't what they seem. That is what makes me fun," he laughed, throwing himself back into the chair and then leaning forward towards me. He placed his hands down onto the table as he gazed into my eyes.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what else I needed to talk to him about. The session felt like it was turning into a conversation that we could have had at some earlier time before he was taken from me. I couldn't help but gaze into his eyes with intense longing in case he failed to see that my heart was bleeding before him. It was breaking my heart.

"So is there anything else you'd like to talk to me about Giada?" he asked suddenly, glancing down at the table and away from me.

"There is so much I do need to discuss with you, but I'm afraid it's escaping my mind at the moment," I said truthfully. There was no lying to him and I didn't want to come off any more vulnerable than I had already.

I watched him, accepting the silence, as he kept his eyes down, looking at the table. I began tapping my pen, out of habit unfortunately. It was such a bad habit I needed to stop. At the sixth tap, his eyes flew up to me, almost glaring at me with irritation. I dropped the pen immediately.

"Sorry, it's bad habit," I admitted shamelessly, and began ruffling through his chart, scanning the text for anything I could begin a conversation with.

"You look nervous," he said finally, licking his lips as he searched for my eyes with his.

"Nervous? Me? Not a chance," I laughed with nonchalance. I was getting better at lying to him, because he crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"Well, do you wanna know—"

"How you got your scars? Not really," I shot back at him curtly. He narrowed his eyes at me suddenly, as though remembering a moment, a memory perhaps. He simply shook his head and averted his eyes back to the table.

"So," I began finally, catching a word in the text I figured I might as well get over with. It was the first session and I might as well get the worst over and done with all at once—the shock of us being alone for the first time in two years and my next question, "tell me about Pixie Dust," I said as I read her name carefully from the text, making it sound like I'd never heard of such a person before in my life.

His eyes flipped up to me finally as I sat there, waiting for him to answer my question. I had an all-business, game face on. I was ready for everything and anything he was about to tell me. He pursed his lips together and then licked them. A grin escaped from his mouth as he opened his mouth to speak.

"She's a plant scientist—a botanist, if you will," he explained finally, after a moment of suspense. I nodded my head as I took notes. When he didn't respond further, my head piqued and my eyes silently urged him to continue.

"And describe to me her relation to you," I spoke finally, peering over the rim of my glasses. I hated wearing them—they always seemed to obstruct my view of things—but my contacts were back ordered and I had no other option for today. Hopefully they would be ready at CVS after work.

I readjusted my thoughts back to the Joker. I had just asked him the question of the session, the question of my last two years. How fortunate I was that it coincided with what was in his chart. Now if only he would answer me so I could get these foolish games over with.


	44. Childhood

~*~*~

44. Childhood

~*~*~

The Joker, still looking down at the table through soft eyes, suddenly looked up at me, grinning. His eyes had changed quickly—they looked hardened, unfamiliar to me.

"Well what relation do you want me to describe to you?" he asked finally.

"Well…it says right here in your chart that you were at the museum with Pixie Dust and that she's been noted as your accomplice as of…recently," I explained, making sure I was reading the chart as much as I could so I could avoid his eyes. He remained silent until I forced myself to look at him again.

We locked our eyes into a gaze finally.

"Well I don't see what kind of meaningful relation one would be able to have with a botanist—especially one who creates bio-botanical drugs for wreaking havoc on a city," he insisted, almost smugly. I felt like I was talking to Dr. Crane.

I mustered up a small fake laugh and responded sarcastically, "it sounds to me like this Pixie Dust needs to take up alliances with Dr. Crane--"

"I couldn't agree more," The Joker grinned

"--rather than you," I finished. His face froze, as though he could read the jealousy in my eyes. I'm sure he could. At that point, I wasn't trying all too hard to hide it. I raised my eyebrows at him and released a sigh. I glanced at my watch and then back at him.

"I believe our hour is up," I spoke finally. His face melted at my comment and he averted his gaze back down to the table. He cleared his throat and leaned forward on the table.

"I believe we have until quarter of. Five…more…minutes," he spoke, his voice low. He raised his eyebrows at me in return. I felt my olive colored skin flush red at his comment. I hadn't anticipated he would be taking note of the time.

"What, are you trying to skimp out on our special...time together, hm?" he asked finally, driving the embarrassment further into me.

"No, not at all—I just didn't have anything else that I could cover today with the amount of time we have left—unless you have something you'd like to bring up, of course I'll listen," I retorted, leaning forward to meet him in the middle of the table.

We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us talking or moving—simply staring.

"Can I ask _you_ something?" he asked finally, leaning even closer to me that I could nearly feel his breath on my face as he spoke. It sent chills down my spine. I wanted to reach out and kiss him—a horrible idea, I know—but so tempting with his face so close to mine.

"You have three minutes," I replied. His lips parted into a wide smile and then her erupted into maniacal laughter. I raised an eyebrow, curious as to what was so hysterical, so I leaned back away from him. He then grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward again. My heart fluttered at his touch. I hadn't even begun to anticipate him touching me.

"You…you really can't do that," I stuttered, taken back by his touch on my wrists. He reluctantly let go of me and sank back into his seat again.

"My apologies! Sometimes I forget where I am," he giggled.

"So what did you want to ask _me_?" I asked, glancing at my watch again, wishing our time together would never end. There was no way I would be able to wait until Thursday to see him again.

"So…what...happens tomorrow when _you're_ not here and Dr. Princeton…is?" he asked me, putting on a serious face and widening his eyes. He almost pouted his lips, as though he were actually upset I wasn't his full-time therapist. My heart pounded inside my chest.

"Well, you meet with Dr. Princeton instead of me. You'll be seeing me on Thursday—"

"What if _you_ took Monday Wednesday Friday and _he_ took Tuesday Thursday," he coaxed, leaning forward towards me again. I chuckled at his gesture, but I knew better than he did that that was not an option—not when I had to fight to get him back onto my case load. There would be no way I would have the majority of therapy sessions.

"I don't think Dr. Princeton would appreciate meeting with you less than me—it was enough of a fight to get you back onto my caseload!" Oops. I slipped up a bit with that one. I didn't want to let him know I wanted him as my patient, but my stupid brain slipped and let him know anyway.

He simply smirked at the comment, but didn't make anything of it. I then saw his eyes avert to my watch.

"Now you can take me back," he said as he licked his lips, gazing at me intently. I nodded my head and stood to my feet. He rose to his feet and met me at the door. I swiped my badge and opened the door.

We walked down the hall, but he lagged a bit behind me. I turned around to make sure he was still there.

"I take it you're not eager to get back to your room," I said finally.

"You mean my padded prison cell? Not particularly eager," he retorted with a slight scowl and then licked his lips.

"I wouldn't be eager either," I chuckled.

"I assume you have another session after mine…with…Dr. Crane?" he asked.

"Yes—he used to be my first session of the day, but then I got you on my caseload," I explained truthfully, slowing my step so that I could walk by his side.

"Ah—well I could probably tell you more about Dr. Crane than Dr. Crane himself—same with Edward Nygma," he boasted.

"I'd like to say that I believe you, but I don't want to discredit myself as a therapist," I chuckled. To my dismay, we didn't walk slow enough. His room appeared in front of us in no time at all and a pit formed in my stomach. I forced myself to swipe my badge to his door so we could not linger outside his door for too long. The door unlocked and I pushed it open for him.

"Until Thursday," he nodded his head to me as he stepped into his room, "Oh, and do try to be here over Christmas—I just have a feeling that Dr. Princeton is going to take it off so you may not have a choice in the matter," He giggled at the thought as I shut the door on him.

As I walked back to the therapy room for my second session of the day, I couldn't help but feel irritated that he couldn't remember me or anything we had experienced. Part of me wanted to break down and cry, but the other part of me just wanted to punch Pixie—no, not punch…_destroy_ Pixie.

Despite the fact I had to meet with my five other regular patients, I spent most of their sessions thinking of ways I could ruin Pixie Dust—ways I could utterly destroy her existence. I was sure if I wanted, I could have gotten a hallucinogenic drug from Crane, or some gun hook-ups from Alberto, but I bit my lip and listened conscientiously to each of my patients like the good NP therapist I was.

The next day, I sat in my other sessions talking with my patients and all I could see was the Joker's face—his dark eyes gazing back at me was seared into my memory. I just wanted it to be Thursday so that I could see him again—so that we could continue our session, so that I could see his face and hear his voice again. I had spent so much time away from him that actually being with him and hearing his voice again nearly gave me an aneurism. I could only hope that I would be able to find Pixie Dust and kill her—or get some kind of botanical drug from her to reverse the Joker's memory lapse she had caused—and then kill her.

I sat in my desk chair fantasizing various ways I could kill her—and I even thought of possibly breeching a major code of ethics. I was debating seriously on whether or not I should ask Dr. Crane of any drug that may reverse the drug Pixie used to erase the Joker's memory. I bit my lip as I weighed the pros and cons of approaching said situation.

"Giada?" there was a knock at my door. My heart almost stopped. I had been too lost in my thoughts.

"Come in," I called. Dr. Gerard walked into my office and closed the door behind him.

"How did your session go with the Joker yesterday?" he asked finally.

"It went well. I think I need to get into a groove—I was kind of nervous at first, but I think it went just fine," I responded.

"Good. I have a request for you from Dr. Princeton," Dr. Gerard began, knowing it was a dick move of Dr. Princeton to send Gerard as his spokesman.

"What's wrong with Dr. Princeton talking to me himself?" I asked finally.

"There isn't anything wrong—he's just being, well, Dr. Princeton. I know, I find it horribly unprofessional myself, but he's in a session right now and he's leaving early today and wont be back until Monday, which actually brings me to what he'd wanted me to request from you,"

"Mmhm," I folded my arms across my chest.

"Since Dr. Princeton is leaving early today, and won't be back until Monday, he was hoping you would fill in for him on Friday," My heart skipped a beat. I was suddenly excited I was about to get two more sessions this week with the Joker.

"Is that all?" I asked, eager for the day to end so it could be Thursday.

"No—this is something I feel he should be asking of you himself, and I apologize for this, but, Dr. Princeton has requested Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off next week—I wasn't sure about whether you wanted to take either or both of those days off so I told him I would ask you, but couldn't guarantee him anything,"

"It's fine. I don't have any real plans—all my family is back East in Boston, so I might as well work and make the money, right?" I responded with a small chuckle.

"Well, I'll inform him when he gets out of his session. I think he's going to leave you a few instructions for his session on Friday. Thank you for being the better and more professional therapist," Dr. Gerard smiled at me. I knew he felt horrible for the way Dr. Princeton was treating me, but I was secretly glad for his misconduct. I got to spend more time with the Joker, which was what I really wanted.

Dr. Gerard left my office and I went back to daydreaming about the Joker, killing Pixie, and my extra session with the Joker on Friday. All of my daydreams were, ironically, made possible because of Dr. Princeton—it was his loss, not mine.

I left the asylum that evening with high hopes and excitement for tomorrow. I spent the entire night sitting up in bed going over the questions I hoped to cover with the Joker tomorrow, though I knew quite well that therapy sessions never go as planned. I figured I would need to be much more prepared for therapy tomorrow that I had been on Tuesday. I wouldn't let him catch me off guard and I wouldn't let him catch me blushing or embarrassed. I wasn't going to let anything bad happen, especially since Dr. Princeton had given me this opportunity without even knowing it.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I sat across in the session room across from an empty seat. I anxiously awaited the Joker. Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, the door buzzed and the Joker shuffled into the room. Rick left immediately, knowing I would return the Joker to his room after our session. Grinning widely, he took his seat across from me.

"Happy Thursday," he greeted suddenly as he pulled his chair close to the table and leaned forward.

"Happy Thursday," I grinned back as I pulled out my notes along with his chart.

"Where would you like to begin?" he asked, almost seductively. I could feel my face getting red, but I kept my focus on the chart. I looked up at him once I was sure I could face his gaze.

"Tell me about your childhood," I stated with pen in hand. I was ready to take notes.


	45. A History Lesson

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45. A History Lesson

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_Disclaimer: I love all of your reviews/input/ideas—everything!!!! As for the story, I am using a Dark Knight quote as a part of the therapy session, but we'll see how that ends up for Giada! I also use the Joker's joke from the Killing Joke in the Joker's story—the Killing Joke is not mine, I do not own it.(wow that's a lot of the word 'joke' in there! Hahaha!) _

His eyes widened a bit at the question, and then a grin spread across his lips. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

I felt like I had seen him react this way to things I'd asked him in our first session—it felt like déjà vu.

"Well, my father was a drinker, and a fiend and this one night, he goes off _crazier_ than usual—so, mommy takes the kitchen knife to defend her self and he doesn't like that. Not. One. Bit."

I sat there and rolled my eyes. I knew this story—I knew it was one of his multiple choice questions as to how he got his scars.

"What?" he asked suddenly, taken back by my reaction. I shook my head in disgust.

"I don't want to know about how you allegedly got your scars—I know you're lying. I asked about your childhood—where you grew up, who your parents were, or, are, what was it like being a kid for you? What was your adolescence like? Talk to me about those things—I know they're not as fun to talk about, but I need some insights, okay?"

He shifted uneasily in his chair and cleared his throat. Licking his lips, I could tell he was perturbed that I had so quickly seen through his story. The Joker took in a deep breath before he spoke.

"I grew up in…a normal home," he began, looking slightly irritated by that fact, "I had a mother, a father, a brother and a sister. I was the youngest. I went to school in the town where we lived. My….father," he cleared his throat, "was a strict…Cath-o-lic. He forced us all to go to church every…single…Sunday. It wasn't until right before my sister's confirmation that I told my…father that…when the time came for me, I didn't want to be confirmed. He didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. Now, my mother was into…letting us make our own…decisions, but my father…my father…told us what was right…and wrong. When any of us did something wrong…or bad, you regretted it the instant daddy found out,"

He paused for a moment and cleared his throat again. I nodded my head as I continued writing. I lifted my head and locked eyes with him. I had never seen him so serious. I held onto the belief he was telling me the truth.

A smirk curved on his lips before he spoke, "when I skipped my own confirmation when I was in high school…my father…was…_enraged_. You don't know…madness…until you've seen this man…angry. Needless to say, I didn't help the matter when I was…smiling back at him as he…reprimanded me,"

"How did he reprimand you?" I asked, wondering if the story he had told me about Iraq was no longer the truth about his scars.

"My father used only his words—he never touched any of us, which I suppose most people you believe to be the better of two circumstances—but _I_ would argue verbal abuse is just as…menacing,"

"I would agree with that assessment," I stated, trying to make sure he wasn't going to get all depressed on me. "So tell me about how that may or may not have tainted your high school experience,"

"I went through high school like any other teen-ager. I had friends—not nearly as many as my older brother or my sister, but enough to keep me occupied. We would stay out late at night on weekends…sometimes we'd so looking for things to throw off of buildings—entertaining things, like that. Once we found a broken and dilapidated industrial size shredder. We hauled it to the top of the highest building in the town next to ours and threw it off the roof,"

I nodded as I took notes, furiously writing as fast as I could.

"I had no plans on college, though I graduated salutatorian in my class,"

I looked up at him. I had no idea he had graduated second in his high school class. I always knew he was a brilliant guy, but it never occurred to me that he was just as brilliant back in high school.

"Naturally, my…father…wanted me to go to…college—ivy league. That…that wasn't for me, no, not at all. Well, daddy…wouldn't have it any other way, so…he did the next best thing for me—or so he thought. He enlisted me into the…services. If I wasn't going to college, then I was going to do something else…respectable. I would fight for my country as a soldier. There was no going back. There was no discussion. It was either college or the military. I…reluctantly chose the option I felt would give me the most…useful…education," he licked his lips before speaking again, "I went to boot camp and found that I had a knack for electrical engineering. They trained me to be an electrical engineer for military equipment and weaponry. It wasn't until I was shipped off to…Iraq…that I hastily learned at-war medicine,"

I nodded. I felt like I couldn't say anything out of fear he would stop giving me the history of his life. I felt so privileged to have this opportunity—a unique look into the Joker's own personal life before he became "The Joker".

"This is where I get to the bit about the scars," he said as he raised his eyebrows and pointed to the scars on his face,"

I nodded again, still writing.

"A few of us had been captured by the opposing…side. I was the one in charge of the platoon—the one with the _plan_. Well, when the…opposing side…asked us for…the plan, I declined such information—of course that was the most logical thing to do. When in war, one does not break the rules of war—one does not give away secret information that could allegedly lose the war for the side you are on—well, my negligence did not please them. It did not please them one bit. They took to torture—as many do in times of war—there are no rules to torture—just the torture in hopes that the plan would be revealed. They took their time. I didn't know what they were going to do. They started to laugh and smile—I thought this was…strange. They told me a joke about two men who escaped from a lunatic asylum," he smirked at the irony of the situation that he was in such an asylum telling me his story, and even worse, he was telling me the joke—I think it was, sadly, his favorite joke,

"The two men get up on to the roof, and there, just across the narrow gap, they see the rooftops of the town, stretching away in moon light... stretching away to freedom. Now the first guy…he jumps right across with no problem. But his friend, his friend didn't make the leap. See…he was afraid of falling...So then the first guy has an idea. He says "Hey! I have my flash light with me. I'll shine it across the gap between the buildings. You can walk across the beam and join me." But…the second guy…just shakes his head. He says... he says "What do you think I am, _crazy_? You would turn it off when I was half way across,"

He finished the joke and a small grin formed on his lips. He licked his lips and continued his own story, "So after telling me that joke, they were all laughing. I was laughing too, thinking I should. Well…they see me laughing and they take a knife. They ask me if I thought the joke was funny—if I enjoyed laughing…smiling. I immediately stopped laughing. Seeing my severe expression, they asked me, "why so serious? Let's put a _smile_ on that face," and then…they put the blade in my mouth…aaaaand…well, you know what happened," he gestured to the scars again.

I was in awe. His story was just as it had been before—except full of much more detail. I hadn't known about the joke they told him. I didn't know what to say. He had been complete honest with me. Luckily, he spared me from having to speak.

"Well, when I get home to my fiancée, she can't stand me—she can't take the sight of my scars. She calls off the wedding—"

"Wait, when did you get engaged? You didn't say you were engaged—was it before you left for war?" I asked.

"Yes—it was with a girl I had dated…in high school. Well, needless to say, she called off the wedding. I was…further…distraught with…emotion. And…funny thing—when she told me she couldn't be with me anymore, all I could think of was that joke—the joke they told me right before they cut my face," He started to laugh, "so…my life had become a joke…because I was told a joke," he was really laughing now. It made me uncomfortable, but I could see his pain. He was the most exposed I'd ever seen him.

"I became the Joker—because my life had been made a joke, I felt that maybe others' lives should be made into jokes too—cruel jokes. All it really takes is one bad day…one bad day to really get someone to jump into a never ending pool of madness,"

I was stunned. I think he knew I was stunned by the expression on my face. My mouth was wide open. I couldn't close my mouth. The truth—all of it—had been revealed to me. The Joker's past was no longer a mystery, hidden behind a painted face and scars. It was real—real pain, real loss, real world cruelty. I wanted to hold him—so show him I loved him.

"I understand it all, now," I said softly, lowering my eyes from him. The hurt his eyes bore nearly killed me.

"Yes, so you see…you…and me…and everyone else, is just as close to insanity—to falling into the madness. I took what happened to me and changed the way I saw things—the way I treated others—the plans, the rules that govern society. They are what cause anxiety, trouble, pain, in so many people. I was the result of that madness. I am an agent of chaos—and now you know why,"


	46. Fiancee

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46. fiancée

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_Disclaimer: My love and thanks to all of you for your reviews!!! It makes me absolutely elated that you enjoyed it!!! I think there is a place in all of us where we realize that no matter how sick and twisted the Joker may seem, there is something there that no one ever really cared to pay any attention to regarding why he is the way he is. I like that originally the Joker has no back story, but being a student of psychology myself, I felt that a character so completely developed and convoluted as the Joker __**should**__ have a back story. _

I went home that night unable to rid the Joker from my every thought. Every word from our session echoed loud and clear in my mind—it was clearer than a glass window pane, everything about him—why he is the way he is. I sat up in bed incapable of sleep. His story ran through my mind. I could feel my heart beating rapidly as his words spoke to me as though he were lying there right next to me. The joke, his childhood, the war, his father, his confirmation; his engagement. It killed me to think he had been engaged—so in love with another woman that he would ask her to marry him. She left him. She left him because of the scars. I could almost see his face, the expressionless composure in his eyes as he told me his story—as he revealed to me his fiancée left him because of his scarred appearance after he had been a victim of wartime torture. I couldn't comprehend anyone so evil—so selfish and horrible. It made no sense to me.

My stomach churned at the very thought of his fiancée telling him she was leaving him. Though I was very much a secondary source to this bit of information, I could almost see her face—though I'd never met the woman before in my life—and her expression as she saw him for the first time. I could see the disgust and disappointment radiate across her unknown face as she gazed upon him. I could see the utter remorse and melancholy growing in his eyes as he saw her gazing disapprovingly at him and the new addition to his once flawless face. I could see him licking his lips—no doubt the scars had been nearly healed, but barely so. I could see him as he developed the habit where he licked his lips—why he would want to cover up his face behind a clown's mask.

I could see his fiancée letting him down, telling him she just couldn't spend her life with someone who has such horrific facial scars. No doubt she pretended like it would be a constant memory of the war—something that had nothing to do with the slight disfigurement of her ex fiancé's face. In that moment, I could see something inside of him snap—I could see all of his horror and wartime memories collapse in on himself. I could see his expression as he realized that his life had become a horrific joke. I saw him snap; I saw him lose control and slip into the madness—I saw him become the Joker.

I am not too sure when the thoughts had turned into a dream or when I had fallen asleep, but I didn't realize I had been sleeping until my alarm woke me with a sudden jolt.

I forced myself out of bed in a daze. I readied myself as usual, but prepared myself mentally on my way to the asylum for my atypical Friday. I hadn't had the chance on Thursday to tell the Joker that Dr. Princeton asked me to fill in for him today. I thought maybe it would be a nice surprise for him since he tended to loathe Fridays anyway.

I strolled into the asylum and up to my office. I routinely logged into the slow Arkham system to check my email. On my desk, I noticed a note from Dr. Princeton regarding what I needed to cover in therapy today with the Joker. I sighed as I folded up the paper and placed it into my notes. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was nearly time for me to head down to the session room. I felt like I had just arrived! The butterflies beginning to swirl about my stomach alerted me to my nervousness. I guess I was never going to truly get over having to meet with the Joker for therapy.

I retrieved the Joker's chart and made my way to the therapy session room on the sixth floor—just down the hall from the Joker's room. I swiped my badge and entered the therapy room. My heart stopped. I felt it rise slowly into my throat as I saw him sitting there. His initially morbid expression melted away into a familiar grin. I assumed he was surprised to see me.

I took my seat across from him.

"You're early today," I said as I took out his chart.

"You're not my Friday therapist," he retorted. I caught on to what he was saying; he shows up extra early for Dr. Princeton's sessions—no doubt a request made by the God of psychiatry himself. I chuckled aloud at the comment.

"But this is a…nice surprise," he added on quickly before I could say anything. I glanced up at him. He was grinning pretty widely, so I returned his grin.

"It was a surprise for me too," I responded, still grinning. "So, here's the deal," I said finally, after pausing for a moment, "you and I both know just how…anal…Dr. Princeton is about these therapy sessions,"

He giggled at my revelation, seeming almost excited that I was agreeing with him on something else.

"And from my understanding yesterday, we made quite some progress—so, rather than follow his laundry list of things to cover with him…by his request…I am going to continue with our session…as though this were my day to see you and _not_ Dr. Princeton's," I explained, slowing down my speech a bit, "So, I won't say anything…if you don't. Catch my drift?" I knew I was breeching a slight code of ethics, but he and I had made such amazing progress yesterday, I just couldn't pass up this extraordinary opportunity to continue the session—there was no way I could wait until Tuesday!

He licked his lips and smirked, "My lips are sealed,"

"Good. Now let's begin," I mused, as I flipped through my notes from the previous session.

"So…are you here on Christmasssss?" he asked me suddenly. Curious, I peered up at him from my notes, taken completely off guard. I wasn't sure if I should answer him, but the increase in the thudding of my heart told me I should.

"Yes, actually I am—Dr. Princeton requested it of me since he is going on vacation. I'll be here both Christmas Eve and day," I replied as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh, good! So glad you'll be here!" he exclaimed with an almost sadistic grin forming at his lips. It made me nervous, to be quite frank. I hadn't anticipated him to smile at me so evilly, but I think it was fitting for him. I quizzically narrowed my eyes at him, unsure of his reaction, but I quickly dismissed his appearance and went back to my notes.

"Now, yesterday we covered quite a bit—and it sounded to me to be a somewhat…emotional experience—I mean, a lot was discussed and revealed. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind discussing with me what brought you to Gotham and what got you into your alleged…career…as a, um…criminal mastermind?"

The Joker simply stared back at me in predominance. I felt like an idiot for asking that question from the look he gave me. I felt like I should know this answer.

"Actually, you don't have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable," I retreated finally. My voice nearly cracked as I let my nerves get the best of me.

"You already know the answer to that question," the Joker said finally, confirming my thoughts. I wasn't sure of what that answer may actually be, but I assumed the simplest answer: he moved to Gotham and became a criminal mastermind because of his experience in the war and with his fiancée.

"Great. Okay. Thanks," I said nervously as I jotted down a couple of notes.

"Why bother with that?" he asked suddenly. I glanced up and noticed his eyes bearing down at my notes.

"Oh, it's how I organize my thoughts in conjunction to the things you say," I explained casually, shifting the paper on the table.

"Can I ask you another question?" he asked, licking his lips and leaning forward on the table towards me. I started tapping my pen anxiously. Whenever he got so close, I could feel my face beginning to heat up from my nerves.

"S—sure," I stuttered.

Before he spoke, his eyes averted to my tapping pen. His hand reached out and pressed my hand to the table to cease the tapping. My heart fluttered with excitement at his touch, nearly flying out of my chest entirely.

"I think _you_ need some xanax—for all that tapping," he snickered at me. I felt my face blush red under my olive skin. He reluctantly removed his hand from mine and locked in a gaze with me eyes. I quickly removed my hand from the table and crossed my arms across my chest.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?" I asked, gaining composure as I leaned further away from him.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat, "Right," his lips parted as his mouth opened. His lips looked so full. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him.

"What _floor_ is your office on?" he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"What's it to you? Are you planning an escape to my office?" I asked, chuckling at his question.

"It's a simple question," he responded.

"It's a question I'm not at liberty to answer," I retorted quickly, though I wanted to tell him—I wanted to release him myself and bring him to my office.

"I don't see…why. I have no ulterior motive except…maybe a thought every now and then…as to where you might…reside…while here in the….as-y-lum," he explained, licking his lips again. I narrowed my eyes at him, staring hard into his gaze. I needed to search for his reasoning—there had to be a reason for him to ask such a question.

"Well, I certainly can't call my time here 'residing', though I feel I am here more frequently than my own home," I mused, grinning at the thought of him thinking about me from time to time—knowing I'm somewhere in the building—somewhere he is not.

"You have my word—no unwanted visits," the Joker said, holding up his hands as though they revealed truth.

"Is that so,"

"I'm a man of my word," the Joker replied, licking his lips. He narrowed and then widened his eyes. I paused for a moment, deliberating whether or not I should reveal to him the location of my office. I licked my lips and glanced down at his notes and then back up at him.

"Fourth floor," I spoke finally, "but that's all I'll say,"

"Fair enough. That's all I needed to know. I simply asked you where your office is located—that would be the answer," he replied.

I glanced at my watch. Our time was just about finished. He had to have something up his sleeve. I didn't know what, but he managed to waste our time today without even knowing it was me that was his therapist today.

I walked him back to his room and pondered over the session. I was upset with myself for not getting anything done I had wanted to. I wondered why he really wanted to know where my office was. He had to have a plan or something. I knew from our past that he supposedly wasn't a man with a plan, but I knew that was not always true. He was up to something, but I had no way of knowing. It just made me nervous to be in the dark with the Joker. It wasn't a place I was comfortable being. I don't think anyone would feel comfortable being in the dark with the Joker.

I went home that evening, ready for the weekend to sweep me away from my thoughts. I hoped that perhaps Bruce would be able to take me away from my mind for a while.

"I am so nervous about being there during the holiday," I told Bruce Saturday night.

"If you want, I can come keep you company," Bruce offered, taking a bite of his pie.

"No, unfortunately outsiders aren't really allowed inside the asylum," I replied, stabbing my fork into my piece of pie.

"No, I mean, I can come in as Batman—no one has to know it's me, obviously. Maybe I could pay your friend the Joker a visit," Bruce laughed, taking another forkful of pie.

I laughed at the thought, but my face immediately went somber, "No that would be a horrible idea. I found out this week why he is the way he is and I don't think you should torture him while he's in a powerless situation,"

"Giada, you can't be serious—this man has killed countless numbers of innocent people and you feel the need to _protect _him in his current powerless situation?!" Bruce sounded offended. I guess I would be offended too if I were him.

"No, I'm not saying that what he did is right or wrong or anything—I just think, where…he doesn't want to kill you and you don't want to kill him…it would be too tempting for you to show up—although…it might make his day a bit less _boring_," I stated.

"Look, Giada, you can't expect me to feel or show any kind of remorse for the Joker—he's a raging psychopath who blew Gotham to high hell. As far as I'm concerned, he deserves to be locked in an asylum—and to be frank, he doesn't deserve you—not as a therapist, not at a friend, and certainly not as a lover," Bruce stated firmly. As hurt as I was by his comment, I knew it was true—the Joker had handled his tragic circumstances in quite an extreme and violent way, but that didn't mean it made it any easier on me. I had fallen in love. What was I to do?

"Then what would you have me do?" I asked suddenly, setting my fork down onto my plate.

"Have him reassigned, Giada. This is hurting you more than you know, having him on your caseload. He's getting to you and I can't say I'm surprised," Bruce explained, taming the fire that I could see was building within.

"I can't do that," I said softly.

"Why not?" he asked, slowly growing irritated.

"Because I love him, Bruce. You know that—you've always known that. I didn't choose to fall in love with him. It is something that happened by chance. I didn't plan it—it just _happened_. You know better that I do that you can't help who you fall in love with," I explained.

Bruce remained silent for a moment. He nodded his head, in control of his emotions, "I know. I just can't stand seeing you this paralyzed by one man—one man who's not even free to roam around. Giada, he's in _your_ control—you have the power, and he is still the one in the position of power. Promise me you won't let this ruin you," Bruce took my hands into his strong hands. I nodded my head in agreement. I knew he was right. I couldn't let the Joker ruin me—not again.

"Good. Now let me get you in on a bit of information I found out this week about Pixie Dust," Bruce said in a serious tone.

"You found out something about that wench?" I asked, nearly exasperated by the sound of her name.

"Yes. I found out her real name. Her name is Kimberly Forks. She's from a suburban town in Florida, just outside of Tampa," Bruce explained. I nodded my head, taking a mental note of all that he told me.

"Do you know the name of the town?" I asked.

"Tarpon Springs I believe is the town," Bruce replied. "Apparently she wasn't always so revolting," Bruce laughed at my scowl.

"Impossible," I grimaced at the thought of her.

"Well, apparently she was engaged at one time in her life, but from what I gathered, she broke it off," Bruce explained. My eyes widened at this bit of information.

"Excuse me?" I asked, feeling my heart beat faster in my chest. My felt began flushing red as the Joker's story flashed before my eyes as it had Thursday night.

I could see his fiancée disgusted with his scars as he returned to her from Iraq. I saw his fiancée's unknown face. The face of Pixie Dust.

My head grew lighter as the world around me began to spin. Bruce jumped up from his chair, "Giada, what's wrong?!"

"I…I…I think I'm…going to faint," the words escaped me just as quickly as the darkness came over me.


	47. Phone Call

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47. Phone Call

~*~*~

The next morning, I awoke to find myself lying in my bed…next to Bruce Wayne. My eyes fluttered open and glanced over to see him staring down at me.

"Giada you nearly gave me a heartattack!" he exclaimed, his face mixed with fury and compassion.

"I am so sorry," I mumbled as I sat up in bed and shook my head. Judging from the pit in my stomach, I hadn't forgotten at all why I had fainted in the first place.

"Would you care to tell me why you were so quick to black out on me last night?" Bruce inquired, pursing his lips together. I took in a deep breath and rubbed my hands over my face.

"Pixie is the Joker's ex fiancée," I muttered from behind my hands. I couldn't even bear the sound of hearing it aloud. It sounded horrible inside my head, but actually hearing it aloud nearly sent me running for the butcher knife. I was going to kill Pixie if it was the last thing I did.

"Pixie is what?" Bruce asked, genuinely confused.

"The Joker's ex fiancée!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, incredulous at my revelation.

"Because he told me in our session that when he got back from war his fiancée left him because of the scars," I exclaimed, more livid than I had felt in years.

"But you don't know for sure if this is the same situation—was he from Tarpon Springs?" Bruce asked. I shook my head. I hadn't asked him where he was from. I just knew it grew up in a suburb. I didn't even know which state he grew up in. Maybe I had jumped to conclusions. It all seemed to fit in my head though—the images I kept getting of his ex fiancée ending things with him—it worked when she had Pixie's face.

"I'll ask him on Tuesday," I said finally, rolling out of bed.

"Well, Thursday is Christmas Eve," Bruce stated.

"And…?" I asked, turning towards Bruce just as I was about to head into the hallway.

"And I am not sure that it is a good idea for you to work on the holiday—you mentioned you were working Christmas Eve and if it turns out that she is his ex fiancée, you can't go psychopath on the patients and go on a killing spree or something. Giada, I see the utter hate in your eyes whenever I mention the name 'Pixie'. I know how much you hate her, and deservedly so—and I can only imagine how much you'll hate her if what she did to the Joker before you even met him is in fact, truth," Bruce explained as he moved from the bed to meet me in the hall.

I licked my lips and sighed, "Bruce, I don't want to hate anybody—but this woman—I just can't find it in myself to forgive her—anything! She's truly the bane of my existence. If she is his ex fiancée, well she got rid of him once—the fact that she could have had him forever but decided to give up on him is bad enough—but if I find out she is his ex fiancée and knowing all of that, in addition to the fact she erased his memory of my out of her own jealousy when she COULD have had him in the past—well that is inexcusable. She doesn't deserve to live another day and mark my words, Bruce—as long as I'm still alive—she won't be,"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bruce had insisted he join me on Tuesday, just in case my hunch on Pixie was confirmed by my primary source, the Joker. I felt maybe he was right, since I had a hunch I just might declare jihad on all of Arkham Asylum if I did find out it was true.

On Tuesday, just a day and a half before Christmas Eve, Bruce sat in my office, ready to catch me when I would come flying into my office from my session with the Joker. I did, however, make him promise not to stay through the evening, since it was so close to Christmas Eve and wasn't sure if he had any shopping or anything to attend to—I didn't want to subject him to that.

I sat in the session room, tapping my pen furiously. I tapped it faster than ever as I awaited the arrival of my patient. At exactly the same time he would arrive everyday prior to this session, the door unlocked from the outside and the Joker shuffled into the room. He took his seat across from me. The grin he wore coming into the room quickly slipped away from his mouth as he caught sight of my anxious and serious expression.

"Good evening, Giada," the Joker greeted me, trying to forced a smile onto my face by smiling his own very special smile.

"Same to you, Joker," I retorted as I slammed his chart onto the table and began extracting my notes from it. I was too damaged inside my head to even realize he had called me Giada. He never really addressed me by anything prior to this, except our first session when he had called me Giada, but I again, was too anxious to notice.

"Doing the overnight shift?" he asked, licking his lips and leaning towards me.

"Yes I am—my first one. I'll be getting a nice fat paycheck for this shift," I forced a smile onto my face.

"And you'll be working this…Thursday…Christmas Eve?" he asked, licking his lips again and raising his eyebrows.

"Yes—like I said, I'll be getting a real nice paycheck for it," I responded flatly, still engrossed in his chart.

"It's not really about the money though, is it, Giada?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. My eyes shifted to his as my head piqued from hearing my name escape his lips for what I believed to be the first time to me.

"Well, no, I guess it's not—but it is nice to have money to pay the bills," I said slowly, cautiously watching his face and looking for any clue that might reveal to me why he referred to me by my name.

"To me, it's all about sending a message—you know. You work here because you enjoy prodding and prying into the minds of your patients—you need to understand why they do the things they do—why they say the things they say," the Joker explained, licking his lips again.

The Joker had to know what was running through my mind. I decided in that moment, I knew what I had to do. I had to ask him exactly what I needed to know—where he was from—the state and town. I couldn't be distracted any further. The only question would be if I could handle his answer for the rest of our session if he ended up confirming my belief.

"I forgot to ask you last week about where you're from," I began, ignoring his comments and trying to remain calm, though I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

"Mm," he sounded as he narrowed his eyes, not once removing his gaze from mine.

"What state and town did you grow up in?" I asked finally.

"Tarpon Springs…Florida," he said slowly. As our eyes locked, I knew from his gaze he knew _exactly_ why I had asked that question. In that moment, we had a mutual understanding—I knew his secret about Pixie because I figured it out. He would never admit it to me.

"Great, thanks for answering that one," I said shortly as I jotted down the information in my notes from last week.

To my pleasure, the session ended quite quickly, mostly because I rushed through my questions and got him back to his room in record time. I hurried back to my office and slammed the door behind me.

"It's true! He's from Tarpon Springs, Florida!" I huffed to Bruce as I stumbled over to the couch where he sat.

"So then your theory is true as well," Bruce said quietly.

"Yes," I said as I closed my eyes tightly and placed my head into my heads. Bruce rubbed my back.

"It'll be okay Giada. These things always work out. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be out tonight—as Batman. If I find her, I'll catch her—she is a criminal, after all. She's been causing quite a raucous in Gotham with her botanical dusts,"

"Bruce, if Batman catches her he won't kill her," I spoke softly as I turned my head to face him.

"No, no he won't—but he will turn her in—"

"No. If you catch her tonight, you hold on to her until I get home so I can finish her off," I demanded suddenly.

"Giada, you know I can't—"

"Bruce, if you catch her, you need to hold on to her—you won't be the one killing her—you won't break your one rule. I'll kill her—I have no rules,"

"You're starting to sound a lot like the Joker,"

"Big surprise, huh. I only spent the better part of a year with him engaging in criminal activity. I _should_ sound like the Joker—he taught me all I know," I chuckled, shaking my head at the memories that now flooded my thoughts.

"Giada, please—you're better than this," Bruce pleaded, "You're so strong to have made it this far. I know this hurts you, but you can't let it bring you down. You've worked so hard for this,"

"All for it to be shattered—so I can become the person I'd been trying to run from all these years—Jade," I explained, nearly trembling.

"No, Giada," Bruce shook his head and held me in his arms, "You're better than Jade—you don't need the face paint, the costume…the Joker,"

I was sobbing now, unable to stop the tremors. "Shh, Giada, it's okay," Bruce held me close to him. He felt so warm and inviting. His sweet and musky scent overwhelmed me, but to a point that I was elated. I didn't want him to let me go. I felt safe in his arms—like I could do no more harm to myself. It was where I should have stayed, perhaps where I should have ended up in the first place.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Bruce had to leave in the early evening after my final therapy session. I was reluctant to let him go, but I knew if he left sooner rather than later, he'd have more time on the streets at Batman—this meant my chances of him finding Pixie were greater. The asylum began shutting down; save for a couple other employees, mostly guards, on each of the floors, I was one of two attending therapists and clinicians who could prescribe medication on staff this evening. I sat at my desk typing away on my computer, surfing the internet and basically waiting for 5:30 so I could administer meds. Well, 5:30 came faster than I thought it would. I left my office and went up to the 6th floor. I administered meds to all of the patients on my side of the hallway. Nelle Johnson, the other NP was administering meds on the other side of the floor. I was relieved I didn't have to do the entire floor—it would have taken forever. I was taken back when I came to patient 4479. I had forgotten I was on the Joker's side of the hall. My heart jumped. I hated administering him meds. He didn't need them. I checked his chart and decided against the Clozarine. Surely Dr. Princeton would be upset that I deliberately went against his instruction on starting the anti-mania drug, but I was certain that by medicating the Joker, nothing would change him—there was really nothing all that wrong with him, per se. I didn't understand why Dr. Princeton had also prescribed Xanax, so I opted out of giving him that as well. He didn't seem to express much anxiety. I passed by his door and glanced inside. He was sitting on his bed, staring out the window—right at me. I rushed away from his room and finished the rest of my med pass.

It wasn't until 7:15 that I arrived back to my office. I hated giving out meds. It took forever. Two floors of patients, but only half a floor for each, thanks to having Nelle working this evening as well. I wasn't all that used to the longer shifts at the asylum. This shift, my first all day and evening shift, w as beginning to take its toll on me.

I sat in my office and felt my eyelids beginning to droop. It wasn't even all that late—I felt like some old woman—tired at 7:30. I was just beginning to drift off into an unwanted cap nap when there was a knock at my office door. Startled by the unexpected rapping on the heavy door, I jumped up from the desk and opened the door. My heart sank at the man before me.

"Dr. Princeton, what are you doing here this evening? Is everything alright?" I asked, still a bit shocked at his appearance in the asylum.

"Well, I made it home this evening and realized that you were here this evening as well as Christmas Eve all day and night. While I expect that you will perform your sessions and administer meds regularly, I had this…overwhelming feeling that you were going to…forget…to administer the new meds to patient 4479. I came here to make sure the Xanax and Clozaril were administered to the patient,"

My heart definitely stopped. I didn't know what to say, so I nodded my head, "Yes…yes I administered both," I squeaked finally.

"Right,"

He knew I was lying. I was so screwed. "Dr. Princeton, I administered the Clozarine, but I didn't administer the Xanax. I didn't feel it was necessary," I spoke finally. His face turned from red to purple to blue. I had never seen his face look so angry.

"_Why_ would you neglect to follow my physicians' orders?" he demanded finally, almost trembling in anger.

"Because the patient isn't expressing any kind of anxiety. I know I should have consulted with you first, that was my mistake, but I couldn't risk overmedicating a patient—especially when he doesn't need them," I explained.

"That is not your decision to make," he snapped.

"I understand that, but since he is both your patient and _mine_, it is also my responsibility as one of his caregivers to make sure he is properly medicated to best of my knowledge and ability," I continued, really gaining strength on my argument.

"_I _am the physician. _You_ are not," he growled, "I am going up there and administering the Xanax myself.," he turned to head down the hallway, but paused and turned towards me again, "Patient 4479 is a criminal mastermind and you want to give him a fair break," he muttered and then huffed down the hallway.

I slammed the office door closed and sat down behind my desk again. That damn doctor! I hated him—he was completely awful. The Joker really did not need any of those medications. Maybe the Clozarine wouldn't hurt him, but he Xanax was just unnecessary. Good thing I didn't tell him the Joker didn't receive the Clozarine either. I think his head would have blown up!

I sat at my desk once again. It truly felt like this night would never end. I watched as the clock struck 10:15. I wondered if Dr. Princeton would come back and lecture me further on my negligence with the Joker. I rolled my eyes at the thought and decided to check my email for the fortieth time that hour. I was just about the open some unread mail when my pager beeped. I looked at the number and picked up the phone. I dialed the asylum number and Joel, the nighttime security guard for the 6th floor picked up.

"Hi, Giada, there is a patient up here who is requesting to meet with you—something about medications?" Joel spoke into the phone.

"Okay," I said, tilting my head to the side in confusion, "What is the ID number? I'll be right up,"

"4479—the Joker," he whispered into the receiver.


	48. Take a Bow

~*~*~

48. Take a Bow

~*~*~

_Disclaimer: Yes, I did enjoy the plot twist myself hahaha. Thank you for all the reviews!!!! You are all splendid!! There are some lyrics from Britney Spears' song "blur" that I took for some dialogue later on in the chapter. I do not own them! I think Britney does haha! _

I slammed the phone down and ran from my office as quickly as possible. I flew up the stairs and through the doors onto the 6th floor. I rushed my way to the Joker's door. I paused outside his room before looking inside. He sat in the dark at the table. There was a single desk lamp that was turned on, illuminating his face. His eyes were fixed on the table.

I tapped on the glass window once to get his attention. His eyes diverted from the table to the window. I swiped my badge and let myself into his room. This very action was seldom done and looked poorly upon. It was never advised to enter a patient's room alone, especially one as dangerous as the Joker. I didn't care. I knew him and if he did kill me, it wouldn't be the worst pain I'd felt in a long while.

"So you came," he pronounced, licking his lips.

"Well, it _is_ my job—when I get paged, I typically have to attend to such matters. Except, I didn't see Joel anywhere on the floor when I came up here—how did you get a hold of him?" I asked, glancing back out the window from his door.

"Don't you worry about Joel—he's just doing his job…like you," the Joker minded me, waving his hand through the air nonchalantly. I nodded my head, suspicions running through my mind.

"So what is it you needed, then?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Well, free drugs are always nice, but I really just wanted some company, hm? You know, it gets quite…lonely…up here," he remarked, licking his lips again. I rolled my eyes at his comment.

"You know, I could get in a lot of trouble by being in here without a good enough reason. Do you need meds or not?" I asked, irritated.

"Well, if you're going to give them to me, I might as well take _something_," he giggled.

"I'm not _giving_ you anything. You don't even need half the meds you're already on. I purposely withheld two of your medications this evening, much to the dismay of Dr. Princeton," I explained as I tapped my foot on the hard concrete floor.

"If you don't think I need any medication…then why did you come?" he questioned me as a smirk formed on his lips. He rose from his seat and walked toward me. I had forgotten how much taller he is than me—and much stronger. I inched towards the door in the event I needed to make a quick escape if he tried to hold me hostage.

"No need to be nervous, Giada," he continued, his voice smooth and light now as he inched closer to me.

"I came up because I thought you needed something—as my patient, it's my job to make sure you're wellbeing is on my priority list," I explained, feeling myself begin to tremble with nerves. Having him approach me like that brought butterflies into my stomach and my pulse increased dramatically as his eyes bore into mine.

"A likely tale—one that I won't try to refute. But do know this, Giada," he began, sliding even closer to me. I could almost feel his body heat radiating into mine.

"Continue, please," I whispered as I tilted my head to the side in an attempt at avoiding his strenuous gaze.

"Oh I'm going to," he said as he brushed my hair away from my ear and leaned his face down so that his lips were right next to my ear, "a surprise awaits you," he whispered and then pulled back from me. My head jerked back towards him. My heart was nearly jumping out of my chest; I could hardly breathe.

"What kind of surprise? When? What are you planning?" I asked, nearly fearful for my life.

He giggled at my question, "I can't tell you that! Then it would be no surprise at all!"

"When can I be expecting said surprise? Tonight? Thursday?" I asked, holding tightly onto my ID badge, ready to swipe my card and leave as quickly as possible.

He licked his lips and averted his eyes for a moment, "Again, something I am not at liberty to tell you. But trust me—soon enough," He suddenly erupted into a fury of laughter. I took this opportunity to high tail it out of his room. I let the door slam behind me as I ran back to my office, all the way down on the 4th floor.

I sat in my office, scared to death of what the Joker had in store for me. If this was the Joker who had remembered me, I would have nothing at all to worry about, but I was operating under the knowledge that this Joker had no recollection of anything we had experienced over two years ago. For all I knew, he was planning on killing me, which I wouldn't put it pass him. He could try and kill me with anything—he was certainly capable of killing me in anyway he saw fit.

For some reason, I didn't trust him—something was not right about this. Things weren't adding up. I sat there, tapping my pen, running through every kind of possibility. I bet he had his peeler knife hidden somewhere in his room. Surely he'd love to dice me up with that little ditty. Or maybe he would suffocate me with his clothing. That wouldn't be such a horrible death. I had always found his strange scent of peanut oil and potato chips to be oddly endearing. I could definitely manage being suffocated in his clothes. Though, that orange jumpsuit he wore was horribly unflattering on his near-perfect frame. A grin crossed my lips as I thought about his Joker suit. I loved how his green vest always hugged his torso so snuggly. And there was something overtly attractive in the pin stripe pants he wore with the wallet chain that hung from them. Though, he had no wallet. I had never pondered the necessity of a wallet chain without a wallet. I guess for the Joker, it was all too fitting.

It wasn't until I heard the knocking on my door that I noticed I was lost in a daydream, and that I had ceased tapping my pen. At the realization that some unknown stranger stood outside my office door, my heart began pounding. I was going to have a heart attack by the time I hit thirty with all the stress my heart had been going though!

I slowly rose from my chair and headed for the door. Before I could get my hand to the knob, the door flew open. I jumped back, banging into my desk and knocking a couple of things to the floor.

"Ta Da!" the Joker exclaimed as he slammed the door shut behind him and latched the lock. He was no longer wearing his ugly orange jumpsuit, but rather, his Joker suit. I guessed he was planning on leaving tonight or something.

"How did you escape?!" I gasped in astonishment. My heart was really going to thud its way out of my chest this time.

"Does it really matter? Did you honestly have any doubt that I would be kept…cooped up in that…that…_prison_ cell?!" the Joker exclaimed as he approached me. I nervously slid off the desk and backed away from him. Licking his lips, he looked at me through anxious eyes.

"You had really get back to your room—this is no good—no good at all," I struggled for my breath.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head in dismay, "I do really hate it when you look this…nervous," he soothed as he continued pursuing me.

"Well, I think anyone would seem nervous when a criminal mastermind escapes their room and has them cornered in their office. I am fully aware that it's a relatively high probability that you'll kill me—that I won't be leaving here tonight alive," I stated through heavy breaths.

"Kill you?! Now why would I want to do that?!" he exclaimed and fell into a fit of giggles, "Oh Giada, you are _too_ funny!"

I didn't get it. He didn't want to kill me…again. Something wasn't right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but if he wasn't out to kill me now, I wasn't about to press the matter.

My nerves still had me trembling, but no longer from fear of death. I was uneasy about the fact that he was cornering me in my office. If he wasn't planning on killing me—or so he claimed—why was he cornering me like this? I kept backing up slowly, inch by inch, as he inched himself closer to me, until I could back up no more. My back bumped up against the bookcase and a slight smirk of satisfaction crossed his lips—seeing that I ran out of room and he could continue approaching me.

I glanced to my left, noticing that I still a little more room if I slipped to the left and headed toward the window—directly behind my desk. By the time I glanced back at him, he was in my face. I accidentally let go of a gasp as his closeness startled me. He was smirking slightly as he stared intently at me. His eyes bore into mine as I stared back at him, trying to find myself in his gaze. I felt my breath increasing; with each inhalation, I thought I was going to need to reach for my inhaler.

"Now, see," he began, licking his lips and averting his eyes to the side for a moment, "I thought this was going to be…easy," his eye returned to mine, and much more intensely this time.

"W…what was going to be easy?" I stuttered, letting my anxiety get the best of me. Maybe I was the one who needed the Xanax!

"Throwing myself at you," he explained as he licked his lips. I was so confused. Was he hitting on me? I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but before I could ask him anything, his hands reached up and grabbed vehemently onto the sides of my head by my ears. He forced his lips down to mine and locked me in a tight kiss. I was so shocked and taken back that I could hardly let myself move my lips with his. He just pressed down harder and wildly assaulted my lips with his. It was like he had been waiting to do this for a while, but I knew that was not the case. He barely knew me—unless he had been instantly attracted to me from the beginning of therapy.

Knowing that I was breeching an immense ethical violation, I tried to shove him from me. I pushed back at him with all the energy I could muster up inside, but he proved to be much too strong. I had forgotten how strong the Joker was—he hold on me was like steel melded onto steel. I had no chance of fighting back. Inside, my heart that had been pounding with a vengeance out of fear, now trembled with despair. I knew exactly why he was here and I knew exactly what he was going to do to me. I just wished he could remember me—that this moment could become so much more than what it was.

As he held me up to the bookcase, still with his lips bonded to mine, his hands released my head, but his body kept me in place. He moved his hands down my arms and then all the way to my pants. The second I realized he was unbuttoning my pants, I knew that my thoughts weren't far from reality. The Joker planned on having his way with me, but I knew it would never be the way it was before he lost his memory. The intense passion the felt for each other no longer existed in him—he didn't even know who I was! How could I possibly let myself get lost in his lustful desire in this moment? I wanted him so badly, but I didn't want him like this—I wanted him only if he knew who I was—if he could remember all that we shared together—if he was going to love me in return. Because I knew I couldn't have any of that, I tried pushing him from me. I didn't want him to have his way with me if he couldn't remember me—if he couldn't love me.

"S--stop it! Please get off of me!" I cried as I finally freed my mouth from his.

"Not a chance. I've waited far too long to do this," he murmured against my ear as he hoisted me up against the bookcase. As he lifted me, my head smacked into the bookcase and left me unconscious and helpless in his arms—another victim to the Joker's madness.

I half expected myself to remain unconscious—it certainly would have been easier for the Joker to take advantage of me. I woke up to see the Joker hovering over me and I was lying on the cold hard floor. I didn't know how long I had been comatose, but for some reason, I could only remember that the Joker had been kissing me before I hit my head. I couldn't remember that I was pushing him away, not wanting him to express his passionate lust with me. The moment I saw him hovering above me, I pulled him down to me and crushed me lips to his.

Little did I know, that this was exactly what he planned on. I didn't even notice my clothes missing from my body or his. All I wanted was him and I didn't even care about ethics. He got to have his way with me; I gave in, but only after I had been knocked out cold. It didn't occur to me in that moment that he would have probably had his way with me regardless—whether I woke up or not.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next time I was conscious, I realized I was lying in a bed. This was not where I remembered last being. There was a small light coming from behind me. I turned over to my other side and saw the Joker sitting in a chair at the desk.

"Where the hell am I?" I asked groggily as I clutched my head—I was in a bit of pain, "and could you please turn the lights out? It's way too fuckin' bright,"

"Aren't you curious as to _why_ you're here?" he asked, titling his head slightly and then rose from the chair. He was back in the orange jumpsuit. I could have sworn the last time I was saw him he had been wearing purple. I sat up in bed and realized that I was fully dressed. Did we have sex in my office or not? Was it all a dream?

"Yeah, actually I am. It's all a blur—I can't remember a thing—but my head really hurts," I explained, rubbing the back of my head. There was a small bump that I ran my fingers over. From what I did remember, the fact my head hurt was a sign that my hunch was correct.

"Maybe I shouldn't have given in, but I just couldn't fight," I finally spoke, softly, realizing that what I felt was probably true.

"I thought it was all a blur," he grinned, "so you _do_ remember,"

"You raped me," I accused suddenly. His eyes widened in shock, as though he had no idea that he had forced me to have sex with him.

"Actually, like you said—you gave in…soooo…technically, I _didn't_," he stated, raising his eyebrows and then licking his lips.

"I told you to stop—to get off of me!" I exclaimed, suddenly remember everything. He bit his bottom lip and then licked his lips again before speaking.

"And I didn't do anything until you woke up again—you had the chance to say no again—and you didn't," he explained finally.

"Then why the fuck am I up here in your room?! I should be back in my office! What time is it?! Dr. Princeton is probably coming in soon—it's gotta be near morning!" I shrieked, jumping from the bed, afraid I would be discovered inside the Joker's room.

"Calm down—it's just after 1:00. No one is coming in any time soon—you're fine here," he explained, motioning for me to sit back down.

"You were planning on having sex with me regardless whether I was awake or not," I said finally, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Can you blame me? Are you aware of what I have to look at twice a week?" he asked, insensitively. My eyes narrowed as my blood began boiling. He stepped closer to me before saying anything else, "You're really quite…beautiful, actually," he assured me, his voice much softer and sincere. My heart plummeted into my stomach at his words. Immediately, my gaze on him softened.

"You…you think I'm beautiful?" I asked, letting my arm fall to my sides.

"You _are_ beautiful," he corrected me, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows.

"Th—thank you," I stuttered, losing myself in the emotion. I had always loved hearing him tell me that. He told me before that I was beautiful, but it was far and few between—all I had wanted was to hear him say that to me…and that he loved me. But I wouldn't push it now. A smile crossed my face and he returned the smile.

"I—I know you like hearing that," he said finally, averting his eyes from mine.

"You what?" I asked suddenly, as my heart picked up its pace.

"I know you like hearing me say you're beautiful. I heard you tell the Batman—one night…a while ago," he said finally, meeting my eyes with his. My heart was beating so fast that it practically stopped when he spoke those words.

"You…you…you remember something from a long time ago?" I asked, almost in a whisper.

"Giada, I would never rape you—I just…I couldn't wait any longer," he confessed.

"You remember me?! You remember us?! You remember me…and us…and…Christmas two years ago and how Pixie destroyed your memory of me?! You turned me away! You didn't remember me!" I exclaimed, my eyes welling up in tears.

"Giada—I remember you. I always remembered you. I never forgot you," he further confessed. It was all too much for me to hear. I was trembling with the excitement that he remembered me, but immediately, the trembling turned angry. He had always remembered me?!

"You always remembered me?! Then why the fuck did you say you didn't even know who I was?!?!" I screamed at him, "Why did you make me spend _two_ years without you, making me believe you no longer remembered me—because of Pixie's—or should I say…your ex fiancée's…memory dust?! How could you do that to me?! How could you let me believe you forgot me?! Was it all a lie?! Was it all just some sick way of getting me away from you?! Were you sick of me—so sick of me that you had to rekindle your engagement with that…that…_whore_?!?!" I could barely breathe. I was on a roll. I was absolutely livid at him.

"Giada, please—I know it all seems so…horrible right now…but I promise you—"

"You _promise?!_ You just reveal to me that the last two years…and probably the entire time before your alleged memory loss was all a LIE…and you have the audacity to say to me '_promise_'?!" I shrieked.

"I do promise—yes, the memory loss was…a bit of a lie…but it's all part of the plan—the surprise," he tried to explain. I had never seen him so composed. I was the crazy on in this moment, and rightfully so.

"I can't trust you," I said finally, wiping my tears from my cheeks, "I thought I could, but it's very obvious to me now that I was such a fool. Bruce was right—I should never have believed anything. I was such an idiot for letting myself fall in love with you," I said it. I told him what I had been trying to hide from him for so long. I was in love with him, but this was hardly the situation I thought I would reveal that information to him.

His eyes widened at the words, unable to speak. His gaze was soft. It made me cry even more. I sat on his bed and held my head in my hands as I sobbed. He came over next to me and sat beside me. He placed his arm around me.

"Everything I have ever done was because I am in love with you, Joker. I am absolutely, one-hundred percent a fool—in love with you," I cried as I finally lifted my head and glanced over at him. His arm was warm as it encircled my shoulders.

"Shh," he pulled me closer to him and held me against his chest, "I know,"

"You _know_?!" I exclaimed as I pulled away from him, "You know I love you and you still did this to me?!" He licked his lips and turned his head away from me and then turned it back to me. I could see that he wanted to tell me something, but he couldn't.

"Giada—now isn't the time. You just have to take me at my word—though I know that's quite…difficult for you, given the circumstances, but I promise this won't let you down,"

"What won't let me down?! What could possibly let me down?! I am already at rock bottom—I can't fall any further than this!" I screamed.

"Giada, I'm a man of my word—you need to take me at my word that what you are…feeling…right now, will be well worth it in the end. It always is—the pain of a bad memory being…avenged," he spoke, sounding just like the crazed criminal he is.

I didn't even know what to say. I was so full of emotion—my love for him, my hurt in remembering the past, the hurt in knowing he had lied to me for two years…and who knows how long! I could barely breathe. I just wanted things to be simpler—to be living in the bliss I had lived in with him before he faked losing his memory. A life before Pixie Dust. I wanted to return back to those first few weeks after I arrived in Gotham for the first time. I wanted to re-live that month over and over and over again. Back then, I had just met the Joker for the first time—he was gaining my trust and I his. It was a beautiful thing. Now, as I sat in his arms, all of that trust had been undone, unraveled and forgotten.

"Just please, tell me why," I whispered suddenly.

"I can't—not yet, but you will find out why. I promise," he said. I shook my head.

"Now's as good a time as any—why make me wait any longer?" I asked.

"Because it's part of the surprise," he said, as though I should have known all along.

"The surprise? Is this your long and drawn out way of killing me? Because you're going a damn good job at slowly murdering me!" I exclaimed. He held me close to him again before I could get outrageous again.

"If you think it was…" he cleared his throat, "…easy…for me to pretend…forgetting you, you're wrong. I'll leave it at that," he spoke finally.

"So then why did you do it?" I asked, "Why did you wait so long?"

"Well, to be fair…you are the one who waited two years. I was the one waiting for you to come back to Gotham. The surprise could have been done in one year," he chuckled at himself, knowing what this surprise is.

"It's really not funny at all," I spat back at him, narrowing my eyes.

"You will laugh—you will enjoy this surprise more than anything, but you have to wait until…Thursday," he stated.

"Christmas Eve. Fitting," I said, "Bringing it all together then, I guess,"

"You just have to trust me on this…follow my lead. This one is worth it, you won't be…disappointed," he urged.

I sighed. I didn't even know what to do or say. I was still so hurt from his lie that I just wanted to run away again, but I knew I couldn't. At the time, it seemed like I would rather he had lost his memory for real than to have lied about it. I just couldn't rationalize something being worth all this pain and hurt I was feeling. I felt betrayed. I didn't even want to know what he did for two years with Pixie Dust—while he was living his lie. It made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to throw up, but I fought against the urge.

"Can you do that?" he asked finally.

"I'll think about it," I spoke finally and then stood to my feet. He nodded his head in consent and then stood to his feet. We both walked to the door of his room. I pressed my badge to the ID swipe, but he held my wrist so that I could not leave.

"I just want you to know…that…the things you make me…feel…well, I would never…intentionally hurt you—though I know it seems like I did, but this surprise will make you understand. You make me feel things I thought were lost and forgotten, and while…when we first met and you made me feel these things, I hated it. I hated _feeling_, but…I found that, when the other person…feels, it's nothing to, hate, really,"

I nodded my head. I understood his message, but I wanted him to tell me he loved me. My heart was bleeding before him and he couldn't tell me he loved me. I glanced up at him and caught his eyes.

"Well, take a bow. It was a brilliant show you put on. You deserve a standing ovation for making me believe you forgot about me," I said coldly.

He stepped back from me and bowed. I rolled my eyes and turned to leave again, "Giada, the surprise is well worth it,"

I nodded my head again and left his room.


	49. Nothing Else Matters

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49. Nothing Else Matters

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_Disclaimer: Sorry for making you all wait for this chapter! I have been spending some time deciphering how I wanted to write this one. You'll never know how much I appreciate all of your reviews!!!! I am so elated that you love the story and the twist in the previous chapter!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!! Oh, if any of you know of the music group "apocalyptica", (they are a string group who does covers of metallica songs) I titled this chapter after one of their covers of the metallica song "nothing else matters". If you have it, listen to it while you read the chapter—it's what I wrote this chapter listening to, on repeat haha! Enjoy! _

My life was turning into a circus. I didn't even know what to think about anything anymore. It was all so convoluted and unnecessary.

Thoughts of the Joker and our evening together evaded my mind, certainly unwelcome. I felt like I owed it to myself to make sure I didn't think about him at all—but as always, it was near impossible to forget him. His face permeated my every thought; his eyes burned into the back of my eyelids as I clenched them together tightly; his scarred lips were pleaded to be kissed; his hands edged closer to reach out and touch me.

I forced my eyes open to escape the reality of my memories and thoughts. How could I possibly even _begin _trusting him? He swore to me that I could trust him—that I should trust him because of this big surprise that was two years too late, in my opinion. I rolled over in bed and forced my eyes closed once again. I should have known better from the beginning—I should have known better than to trust a man who calls himself the Joker.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The sound of my alarm screeched through the early morning silence that filled my bedroom. Exhausted from my late shift last night, I rolled out of bed and stumbled my way to the bathroom. I groaned as I peered into the mirror. I looked like hell. I didn't even bother putting my contacts in. I didn't want to see clearly just how awful I looked.

I hopped in and out of the shower, brushed my teeth and dried my hair. After haphazardly applying some bare essential makeup, I put on my glasses, got dressed and left for Arkham. I wished I had been off today—especially since I worked an overnight shift last night. I guess it was my own fault for letting myself get scheduled like that. I only hoped for Thursday. Or did I? Was I really going to allow the Joker smooth-talk me again? Was I going to take a leap of faith and trust him…again?

I sat in my office pondering whether or not I would take him up on his offer. I could just walk away from it all and begin the slow and long healing process—a process I knew would never work for me. He had cut me too deep. The Joker had left an inescapable mark on my heart that held me down with nuts and bolts. I was melded to his very existence and there was no way of prying me from that.

"Giada, good morning," Dr. Gerard greeted me as he knocked on my door and let himself into my office.

"Good morning," I yawned.

"Rough night last night? Any trouble with the patients?" he asked, smirking at my tiredness.

I chuckled, "No—just not a whole lot of sleep,"

"That would be the killer shift, as we call it—the overnight followed by the dayshift—and you're doing the Christmas Eve night shift too, right?"

"Yeah—but I don't mind that because I won't be in tomorrow morning—I'm coming in at 3:00," I responded.

"Oh right! Well that's not so bad then is it?" he asked in a strange affirmation. I shook my head in agreement.

"Have you seen Dr. Princeton at all today? I've paged him twice already and he hasn't returned my pages," Dr. Gerard asked. I assumed this was the real reason for his morning visit.

"No I haven't—though he stopped by last night to make sure I completed my med pass successfully and diligently," I retorted curtly.

"Hm. Maybe he called out sick. I know he is going on vacation with his family, but I assumed he'd be here today—maybe he left early," Dr. Gerard spoke his thought process aloud for me. My heart sank at this realization—if Dr. Princeton wasn't here today, that would mean I'd have to meet with the Joker at 8:30.

"Well, I guess you know the routine, Giada. You'll be meeting with patient 4479 today then," Dr. Gerard stated as he stood to his feet.

"Will do," I responded with a half smile. He nodded his head and left the office. I reluctantly grabbed the Joker's chart and my binder full of notes. Jeez, Dr. Princeton was really trying to sabotage my Joker psychosis. I knew that the Joker would mention last night in the session today—I didn't even have enough time to figure out what I was going to do! I hadn't anticipated on Dr. Princeton's absence. I was really counting on my free time today away from the Joker. I needed my space from him to clear my thoughts and really think things through rationally.

As I walked down the hall, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. The doors edged past me as I glided, almost motionlessly to the therapy session room. The walls were closing in on me as I walked; inch by inch, the doors were left behind me. The session room was at the end of the hall. It looks so far away, like it wasn't getting any closer to me as I continued walking. I felt like I wasn't even moving anymore. Maybe I wasn't really walking. Maybe I was just fantasizing that I was walking in a sad attempt at giving myself a bit more time before coming face to face with the Joker again.

Wrong again. The door was suddenly before me in all its hideous glory. It stood there, mocking my very existence—laughing its silent laugh. I knew what was behind it—who that door was hiding behind it. It still continued laughing in my face—a cruel joke that only I could understand.

"Fuck you, door," I muttered under my breath finally, as I took in a deep inhalation before swiping my ID badge.

I entered the session room to find my beloved Joker sitting idly in his seat, awaiting the arrival of Dr. Princeton. He glanced up at me and grinned immediately.

"I know—you weren't expecting to see me this morning. Another nice surprise, right?" I asked curtly, as I sat down and let my things fall onto the table that separated us.

"Actually—not quite," he remarked, accenting the T's, and then licking his lips. I paused and looked up at him. I stared hard at him through narrow eyes. Why was he pulling this shit with me already? I released an irritated sigh.

"I know you're saying that because you want me to ask you what you mean, but I'm not going to. I'm just going to proceed with today's session as though it were any other day—and pretend like it's either a Tuesday or Thursday," I spat back at him, trying to go back to yesterday and all the other days before yesterday when I thought he didn't remember me. It was so much harder now, knowing he never forgot me at all.

He nodded in consent to my request and pursed his lips. I shuffled through my papers, glancing up at him every now and then, half expecting him to blurt out some ridiculous comment, but he never did. He simply sat there in silence, grinning at me. Finally, I slammed his chart shut.

"Okay so just tell me why you were expecting me this morning," I blurted finally, giving in to my irritation. He just erupted into a cacophony of laughter.

"I knew you wouldn't keep up that therapist persona for long—though I'd have to say, you are quite the psychoanalyst, Giada. Very impressive—you don't disappoint," he said as he leaned in close to me.

I continued glaring at him from behind my glasses, "Will you just shut the hell up and tell me what I want to know?" I snapped at him.

"Now, now, calm down—I'm going to tell you everything; but that's the point, you see? Once you know everything, you're going to have to choose," he explained, licking his lips again and raising his eyebrows.

"What are you making me choose?" I asked, suddenly feeling my heart rise into my throat. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me—after all we'd discussed the night before. My blood began rising in temperature as he began his explanation.

"I'm making you choose because I know if you don't, you'll regret it…for the rest of your life," he spoke.

"Where is Dr. Princeton?" I asked angrily, shoving all of my papers and binders aside.

"On a long vacation," he replied, folding his arms across the table and leaning in toward me. He waited for my response. I knew he'd have some kind of smug reply like that.

"On a long vacation…_where_?" I asked through clenched teeth and leaning in toward him.

He licked his lips and looked off to the side. He slightly pouted his lips before answering, probably to make me hate him less in this moment, "Well…his office," the Joker finally responded, gazing back at me through harsher eyes.

"This isn't funny. He's in his office? Then why the fuck isn't he the one in here doing therapy with you?" I demanded, heatedly.

"Now, come on, Giada. Think about this one, hm? Look, listen, things aren't that complicated with me. If I say he's in his office—he's there," he paused before going on, "he just won't be coming out any time soon," he started giggling.

"What did you do to him?" I asked, now infuriated.

"What do I do with people I…despise?" he asked me in rhetoric, licking his lips.

"Oh my God—you killed Dr. Princeton," I whispered suddenly. How could I have been so dense as to not figure that one out the minute Dr. Gerard stepped into my office this morning?! I was horribly out of practice with the Joker and his antics.

"Ta Da! We have a winner!" he exclaimed with excitement, "He's locked up in there and safe—a nice little present for you and your little therapy team. Now you have me all to your self…Dr. DiMarco,"

His gaze burned my eyes. I couldn't tear my gaze from his. He had me. As much as I hated that he killed Dr. Princeton, I felt somewhat relieved.

"And how does this…" he cleared his throat, "knowledge…make you…feel, Giada? Hm?" he asked finally.

I didn't know how to respond. At this point, nothing else mattered. Dr. Princeton was dead and the Joker was now my patient—all to my self. I felt horrible that the man was dead, but he had been such a nightmare to me. At least he was no longer a threat to the Joker—he would no longer be considered for prison or death row.

"Your choice hangs in this answer, my dear," he said, urging me to speak. I was too dazed and confused. It was all happening so fast. I had bee furious with him just a moment ago, but now I was sitting here completely at ease and falling hard.

"Relieved," I dreamily replied finally. A smirk widely spread itself across his scarred lips.

"I knew you would be. That's why I did it," he confessed. Was that my surprise? I certainly hoped it wasn't. No, it couldn't be. It was Christmas Eve yet.

"I'm…flattered?" I responded, unsure of how to reply to such a statement. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Something inside me switched. I was no longer furious at the Joker. He killed someone for me—someone who had driven me insane and treated me horribly. I assumed he had taken notice and decided to kill anyone who caused me grief. I was…flattered. Butterflies swirled around my stomach as I re-considered his sick and deranged way of showing me he cared for me—by killing my superior. A demented smirk crossed my lips as and he and I shared this delusional moment of bliss.

"So, what are we going to do with the body? They will probably suspect you," I spoke finally, as though I were still in a dream.

"This is where you need to make a choice, Giada," he instructed finally, reaching across the table for my hands. He took hold of my hands in his. They were cold and rough to the touch, but I loved them. I leaned in closer to him, wanting him to kiss me.

"What choice?" I asked, still fluttering around in my lucid dream.

"Tomorrow night—you and I leave…this…place," he said as he looked about the room.

"But if you're gone, they'll know for sure you killed him," I said finally, snapping out of my fantasy world.

"You didn't let me finish," he interjected, raising his eyebrows, "you and I escape from here tomorrow night…so I can…surprise you, like planned. When the surprise is over, we come back here…and you lock me up again like nothing ever happened. After they discover…Dr. Arrogant Bastard, you and I escape…and I blow up the asylum to high hell!" he giggled at the end part. I cocked my head to the side.

"Then I won't have a place to work," I said, totally unconcerned for the blowing up the building part of his plan. What was wrong with me?! What the hell was I thinking?!

"You won't need a job—you work with me, remember?" he asked, leaning further towards me. I could feel his breath on my lips. I wanted to kiss him. I licked my lips and inhaled his strange scent. The butterflies swirled against the walls of my stomach. I nodded my head.

"I remember that's how things were," I spoke finally, trying to keep my head on straight and not get too lost in the fantasy of having him back with me.

"I…I…I don't know what to do. I want to go with you—but—but this job is everything I've worked so hard for," I explained finally, leaning back from him.

"No, no—you're talking like one of them—and you're not one of them. You never were. Don't try to be something you're not. You're too good for them; for this," he looked around the room, and tightened his grip on my hands. He then pulled me back to the center of the table to meet him.

"I…I…don't know,"

"Say yes," he urged me, his lips almost brushing against mine. It sent chills down my spine. "Your name won't be ruined…if that's what you're worried about. If blow up this building, no one will ever know you were involved—there will be nothing left for them to find,"

"I need to be clear then—if I work with you, you _will_ take me with you—all the time. I won't be sitting around like I was for a while back then," I instructed.

"Of course," he quickly replied.

"Because nothing else matters to me if I can be by your side on the streets of Gotham again,"

"It was never a question—just a matter of _when_," he said, sitting back in his chair. I nodded my head in agreement, and then glanced at my watch.

"It looks like our time is up, Clown Prince of Crime," I jested, with a small smile.

"Tomorrow, then…my harlequin of hate," he grinned back at me. My heart melted. I knew nothing else mattered.


	50. Sugar Man

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50. Sugar Man

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all for the reviews—full of constructive criticism and praise alike! I appreciate it all! Your reviews are what help me to become a better writer and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart!! There are some drug references in here, just FYI. _

On the train home that evening, I went through my conversation with the Joker. His words made me high, like a drug. I felt my brain floating above my body as his voice echoed through my ears. I closed my eyes so that his face would appear behind my eyelids. I needed to see his lips move as he spoke to me in my head. I had to get him out of Arkham tomorrow night; I had to be with him—I had to give him the opportunity to prove that this surprise was well worth the pain I endured for two years.

As the train stopped at the next stop, I jolted out of my Joker trance. I realized in that moment I had to tell Bruce—or at least warn him of the Joker's departure from Arkham. He would know I helped him escape—there was going to be no way around this, but I didn't want to lie to Bruce. I didn't want to lose his friendship. He'd grown to be an integral part of my existence and I loved him for that. I loved how he supported me in such a positive way—a way that the Joker could never provide for me. And yet, I felt like I could relate more openly with the Joker. He understood a side of me that not even Bruce fully understood. I couldn't blame him for that—there is always so much about a person that not even a best friend or spouse can understand sometimes.

The train made another stop and I made my exit. I walked in slow motion up to the streets of Gotham and out into the icy December air. My hair whipped around my face as I strutted the couple blocks to my apartment.

Once I was finally upstairs, safe and warm, I dropped my things and flopped down onto the couch. I kicked off my heels and let my feet rest idly on the coffee table. My eyelids slowly drooped lower over my eyes as I allowed myself to succumb to the softness of the couch. In no time, the Joker's face lit up behind my eyelids. He grinned back at me in satisfaction and my stomach fluttered in excitement. I could feel my lips curl up into a similar grin.

"I haven't seen you grin like that in a while," a deep and dark voice rumbled from the window. My eyelids flew open and I sat up straight, spinning my head in the direction of the voice.

"Oh Bruce, you scared me," I sighed, standing to my feet and walking over to the window by the fire escape, "come on in—get out of the cold,"

"No, I'll be fine—just thought I'd stop by. Apparently there's quite a bit going on downtown tonight—I think Pixie's involved," Batman explained.

"Oh I see—well definitely don't stay here with boring me too for too long!" I laughed, folding my arms across my chest. I wanted him to kill Pixie for me, even though I knew Bruce would never kill anyone. I also wasn't all too prepared to inform him on tomorrow night's escape plan with the Joker. I knew I had to, but I just wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"Still have it out for her, I see," Batman chuckled.

"Uh, yeah! I want her head on a stick!" I laughed, though my intentions were complete serious.

"Well, I can't do that—but I _can_ set her up so she's caught by the GPD and sent to Gordon's unit," Batman explained, no longer laughing.

"I know, but as you know, that just won't do, for me. I want her dead—but don't you worry about that—I'll take care of it soon enough," I joked.

"Giada, please—you know better than that. I'm positive I can get her tonight if I work fast. I've hinted to Gordon that she might be involved in the mob's plans tonight, but from what I've gathered, it's all still up in the air,"

"No Bruce—please don't capture her—I promise that when I do, I'll handle it my own way—but it's not your job to punish her. It's mine," I reasoned with him. He was silent for a moment, I think considering and weighing his options. Finally he nodded. I knew he was against this, but as my friend, he respectfully held on to my wishes.

"Whatever you end up doing to her—I don't want to know," he finally spoke. I nodded my head in agreement.

"Will do, sir," I smiled back at him, "Oh, which reminds me—quickly before you …take off," I had to tell him about the Joker.

"What is it?"

"Well, just so you're not surprised…well,"

"Don't even tell me the Joker's escaped and that he's with her this evening—I _will_ have that psychopath arrested if I find him there," Batman growled. I froze with my eyes wide. I hadn't anticipated this kind of response from Bruce.

"Oh, um, no—he's still in Arkham—and that's where he's staying!" I exclaimed, as though I was glad the Joker was a prisoner in the asylum.

"So what were you going to tell me?" he asked, a bit antsy to get going.

"Oh—I think the Riddler might be back on the streets. He escaped some time last night," I lied.

"Oh, that loon—I remember him. Well, thanks for the heads up, babe," he responded, leaned in to kiss my forehead and went to jump off the escape.

"Wait!" I called out to him.

"What?" he asked, resisting the urge to jump.

"Bruce, you're really great to me. I just wanted to tell you that—you really mean so much to me. I…I…hope you know I'd never intentionally hurt you," I stuttered. He smiled back at me.

"I know—you're just in love with a psychopath," he chuckled and then jumped off the fire escape. I shut the window and locked it. Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I walked into my bedroom to get ready for bed. What the hell was I going to do?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I punched in at 3:00 on Christmas Eve. Arkham had never looked so bleak—it must have been because I knew it was a happy holiday that I wouldn't be celebrating in the conventional sense I once knew so well, the complete Italian tradition of seven fishes.

I hastily made my way to my office. I unlocked my door and held my breath as I flung it open, nearly expecting to see the Joker sitting in my office awaiting my arrival. To my slight dismay, my office was dark and empty. I flicked on the lights and took a seat at my desk, dropping my bags to the floor. Breathing deep and exhaling fully in anticipation for this evening's Joker heist, I took out his chart one final time. As I stared at the cover of the chart, I wondered what time I would be assisting in the Joker's escape. I opened the chart and a Joker card fell to the floor. My heart jumped at the memorable gesture. Leaning down, I picked up the card from the floor and held it gingerly in my hand as I read the message

_Be a good girl. I'll be waiting at 9. – J. _

Be a good girl? What the hell was he thinking?! What I was about to do was NOT good—in fact, it was far from it. I didn't understand him sometimes. Maybe that was his point—to say I would be a good girl for helping him escape and going through with the plan. On top of it all, I wouldn't even consider myself to be a 'girl' anymore—was twenty-seven for crying out loud!

Well, at least I knew what time to bail him out of the loony cell. I glanced at the clock. I had five and a half hours. I groaned and slammed my head down on the desk. This was going to be a long evening.

"Giada?" a knock and a voice came from my office door. I lifted my head and twirled around in my chair.

"Come in!" I called. My heart stopped at the person who stood before me.

"Bruce what are you doing here?!" I exclaimed, completely taken by surprise. He smiled and let himself in, closing he door behind him.

"Well, last night after I dropped by, I kept thinking about that conversation we had. I felt kind of bad the way I left it—I mean, you poured out your feelings to me and I just brushed it off like some arrogant fool," he explained, sitting across the desk from me.

"Oh, don't worry about it—I mean, I didn't really care at all," I laughed, hoping it would lessen his guilt.

"No, I mean, I didn't really get the chance to clue you in on my feelings on the matter," he further explained.

"What do you mean? What matter are you talking about?" I asked, confused.

"Well, from the sound of it last night, I thought you were…confessing…your feelings for me," he stated, a bit hesitantly, "which was why I felt so awful for the way I replied,"

"Oh! No! Bruce—I"

"I just wanted to let you know that I feel the same," he confessed. My eyes widened at his confession.

"Oh Bruce," I didn't know what else to say. I didn't really love Bruce like that—I loved him as a friend. Maybe he wouldn't take this so harshly, although, Rachel let him down too. The poor guy keeps finishing last!

"Giada, I care a lot about you, but I know I can never change the way you see some things. As much as I've grown to love you and as much as I would love to try and begin a meaningful romantic relationship with you, I know that I could never fill that…part of you—that part of you I fail to comprehend. I'm sorry,"

"Bruce," I smiled, almost laughing. I felt so relieved. I could definitely play this one out, "I'm so glad you feel that way—I mean, of course I'm regretful that we cannot be together, but I too feel that some things just…need to be left alone. I completely understand,"

I felt bad lying to him about my feelings, but I think it was the right thing to do at the time. I didn't want him to think I didn't care for him, because I did. In fact, I felt that if I never met the Joker, I probably would have fallen head over heels in love with Bruce. He was an attractive, kind hearted and wonderful person. He was a fantastic friend and I could only imagine what a brilliant boyfriend he would make.

We smiled back at each other.

"I love being your friend, Giada. I hope you always remember that," he said finally, smiling at me.

"The same can be said for me," I replied, retuning his bright smile. He stood from his chair and pulled me up to my feet. He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me in a close, tight embrace. I felt safe in his arms. I always felt safe in Bruce's arms. He kissed my forehead and released me.

"Well, I just had to stop by and talk to you—I won't keep you from your work any longer," he grinned.

"It's no trouble at all—I don't have much to do until the med pass at 5:00. You can stay if you like. Maybe if you'd like become Batman, I can take you up to see Mr. J," I coaxed. Bruce's eye narrowed, but then his face softened.

"You know, that might not be such a bad idea. I'd like to talk to him about Pixie, if I could get some kind of insight into her mind, that would be real helpful," Bruce thought aloud. My heart sank. That was not what I had in mind at all!

"Would you mind, Giada? This would really help me out a lot—if you'd like, you can stay for the questioning," Bruce urged.

"Oh, that'd be nice," I lied. Bruce didn't know the Joker remembered me—that he never forgot me with Pixie's dust. The Joker didn't know that Bruce Wayne was the Batman. I sighed and nodded my head in approval. Bruce excused himself momentarily—I guess it was to change into his Batman clothes. I expected him to take at least an hour, but he returned in less than thirty minutes. He must have flown home, jumped into his suit and flown back.

"The Joker is up on the sixth floor," I explained to Bruce as we walked down the hall and then up the stairs to the sixth floor. My heart was pounding as we walked closer to the Joker's room. I stopped suddenly as I saw his door.

"It's right there," I pointed. Batman walked up to the door and turned to me.

"I need your help to get in," he reminded me.

I laughed, "Oh right," I nervously edged up to the room, "Let me prepare him for this first,"

Batman nodded his head in agreement. I swiped my badge and I opened the door to find the Joker sitting up on his bed. He turned his head to me and grinned widely.

"So you came by—a little early though," he mused as he jumped off the bed. I moved in closer to him, so close that I could feel the heat of his body.

"I didn't plan this—don't be mad at me—but you have a visitor. You'll probably enjoy this, but please don't think I had anything to do with it. He came to me," I explained into his ear softly. I leaned away from him and observed the expression on his face. He looked serious and thoughtful as he pursed his lips.

"Hm, a visitor?" he asked.

"I'll still be coming by at 9, so don't worry," I spoke again softly to him. I then opened the door and let Bruce inside. I watched the Joker's expression change instantly from thoughtful and serious to ecstatic and elated.

"Batman, please do your best not to harass our patient. Joker, please do your best not to harass your visitor," I said, almost through clenched teeth as I started moving through the door.

"Oh Dr. DiMarco! Do stay!" The Joker exclaimed through giggles, clearly playing along and pretending not to remember who I was. I forced the smile back and kept on my serious face.

"Well, I think that's up to the Batman—he's got some questions for you," I explained.

"You can stay," the Batman grumble, taking a seat at the table. The Joker followed his lead and patted a seat on his bed for me to sit. I hesitated a moment before taking him up on the offer. I sat down uneasily as I began to witness a conversation I _really_ didn't want to hear.

"Joker, I'm not here to fight—I just have some concerns about your girlfriend Pixie Dust," Batman began. I cringed at the word 'girlfriend'.

The Joker licked his lips, "What do you want to know, Batsy?" he asked, leaning forward onto his hands as his elbows supported him against the table.

"The dust that she uses—what does it do and where does she get her materials from?" Batman inquired in his deep grumbling voice.

The Joker laughed for a moment and licked his lips again before answering, "Why…they're all plant based, of course—she's a botanist. Smart, but not so smart as my blushing therapist behind me,"

"I'm not asking about Giada—I'm asking about Pixie," Batman interrupted.

"So hasty, Batsy! I was getting there! She makes dust from plants—all kinds of dust that does al kinds of things to her…" her cleared his throat, "victims,"

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, there is one that kills you—instantly—upon breathing it. Then there's the 'rape' dust, as I call it—makes you succumb to her and then she kills you. Then there's the one that erases memory," he paused for a moment, licked his lips, "Then there's the sugar dust—supposed to taste sweet. She'll put it in food or a tasty beverage—it'll do one of two things to the person depending on the person's chemistry in the brain. That was the one she told me to use, since I'm not as immune to plant dust as she is,"

"So you were her…sugar man?" I blurted out, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of her madness. Plant dust—really?! What a stupid bitch!

"Not exactly—though it sounds like I was looking back on it now," he replied, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows.

"Where does she obtain the materials to make these dusts?" Batman asked, his voice low and husky.

The Joker rolled his eyes and licked his lips, "Anywhere—museums, chemical plants, the zoo—anywhere there's…unique materials that can manipulate the human body. She grows her own plants, though,"

"Some of the dusts are distributed by her as a drug—she tells people it's some kind of," he cleared his throat, "psychoactive drug, and then sells it. A lot of people buy them thinking they're cocaine or heroine," the Joker continued.

"Does she distribute actual illicit drugs too?" Batman asked, hoping I think to get more shit on her.

"No—but she makes these dusts and sells them to drug deals in exchange for cocaine and heroine—not something we'd do all too frequently, but enough,"

My heart stopped. I didn't know he used drugs! I should have guess or assumed he did, or at least did in the past, but it was something that never crossed my mind. The Joker—snorting lines of cocaine off a table or shooting up heroine. I wanted to die. I was not a person who liked admitting my addiction to cocaine years ago—but for some reason, it was difficult for me to admit to myself that the Joker did drugs—that he did drugs with Pixie. I almost felt jealous that he'd used my drug of choice with her and never with me. I was glad to be cocaine free—I never wanted to go back to that life or addiction, but the jealousy still stung.

I wanted to kill this woman. I wanted her dead. I couldn't believe Bruce was subjecting me to this conversation. I couldn't believe he was making me sit through his question and answer session with Pixie's 'Sugar Man'. It made me sick. It made me furious. I did my best to blot out the remainder of the conversation, focusing on ways I could murder the bitch.

I'd love to have the bitch OD on some real pure cocaine. Hmph. Sugar. My Joker as her sugar man. Sugar man my ass.


	51. Slowly

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51. Slowly

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_Disclaimer: As for a real disclaimer this time, um, well, there may be some inappropriate but much needed…action…in this chapter. You were forewarned. Hahahahehehehahahahohohheheehaahooheehah…There is also a scene involving drug use…another FYI. The song 'slowly' by Amon Tobin is fantastic for this chapter. I'd recommend listening to it, since I named the chapter for it!_

Bruce and I walked down the hall in silence. When we got back to my office, we exchanged a short good-bye and a Merry Christmas. I was almost late for my med pass. I hadn't anticipated his question/answer session with the Joker would last so long. I was pretty upset with Bruce for putting me through that experience, but I was sure I'd experienced worse. It just further propelled my want to kill Pixie—a slow and painful death—at my hand.

I must have bee moving at the pace of a snail, because I didn't get through with my med pass until 8:30. I couldn't believe it. I only had thirty minutes until the Joker and I would be free for the evening—finally free to get my long awaited Christmas surprise.

I made my way back to my office and gathered my things. I then made a phone call up to the other NP on this evening, Lilly.

"Hey Lilly, it's Giada. Yeah, I'm not feeling so well—I just threw up in the bathroom up on seven. Would you be horribly upset with me if I took off for the evening? Are you sure? I feel awful leaving you, but my med pass is done, so you won't have to worry about that. Oh, okay, thank you so much Lilly. I owe you one. Bye now. Merry Christmas," I lied into the phone.

I took my belongings, and left my office. I clandestinely made my way up to the sixth floor, checking every which way to make sure no one was watching me. Finally, I swiped my badge to the Joker's door and slipped inside his room.

"Right on time," he remarked as the door closed behind me. I turned to face him, still a bit pissed about the Batman twenty question game.

"So you did drugs with Pixie these past two years, huh," I said finally, widening my eyes.

"And you're surprised by this? How else would you expect me to get by…being with..._her_…all the time?" he asked, amused by my tiff.

"Well, the fact that she was your fiancée should have helped you a bit," I huffed.

"Let's not discuss this here—we've got a date to escape this…place," he said finally. I let it go, but I wasn't going to let him get off that easily. Slowly but surely, I'd get it out of him.

"Let's get this over and done with—my nerves are ready to break," I demanded as I put on my winter coat and scarf. I glanced over at him and he was removing his makeup. He then placed a knit hat over his head, tucking his matted hair into the hat.

"So we're just gonna walk right out of here?" I asked, incredulous as I observed him getting out of his orange jumpsuit.

"Yup. Edward gave me these to wear over my clothes," he giggled as he pulled on another pair of pants over his purple ones, and another coat over his purple one. He then tied a scarf about his neck.

"Ready?" I asked, relatively calmly, seeing just how normal he could look. I remembered a time when he looked all cute and bundled up—the day we got our Christmas tree two years ago. My heart sank at the memory. I swiped my ID and we left the room. He had made it look like he was sleeping. I felt like I was assisting in a middle-school sneak-out. But it seemed to work. We made it all the way to the first floor without anyone questioning us. I simply told everyone he was my brother from Boston here to pick me up.

When we were free of the asylum, he took my hand in his and led me down a couple of side streets. Things were beginning to feel like they did in the past. I smiled on the inside, hoping that this surprise was going to well worth the wait. I just wished I didn't have to bring him back to the asylum—I wished he didn't have to blow it up either.

It wasn't until he led me down a familiar alley that my heart really started to quiver and tremble with anxiety. All I could remember were the days before Pixie Dust and how much I wanted him to love him—the times we spent together and my assisting him on various riggings. I missed those days. I missed how he held my hand like this as we meandered through the alley. When we stopped at the bottom of his familiar apartment building, I could only guess how many times he and Pixie probably stopped her in the last two years. I forced the thought from my mind as we climbed the memorable fire escape, my heart pounding each step of the way.

When we reached the top floor, he paused and turned around to me, "Wait here, just a…moment," he said in a low voice. I nodded my head and watched him as he kicked the window in and landed on his feet in the kitchen I had baked him cookies two years ago—the night he claimed to have forgotten me. I stood out in the cold waiting for him to come back. I wondered what the hell he was doing in there. Suddenly, I heard music coming from inside. Hm, that was interesting to me.

He retuned moments later, smirking at me through a freshly painted face and in his complete purple suit. He held out his gloved hand for me and helped me in. I landed in his arms. My hands clutched onto his upper arms. I had forgotten how strong his arms felt. He released me from his hold and led me into the rest of the familiar apartment. My heart skipped a beat as we turned the corner into his bedroom. The bed was made up, not messy like he and I had left it in the past. I wondered if this was something Pixie did, but I forced her from my mind again, afraid I would ruin his surprise.

"This is just the pre-lude to the actual surprise," he began, "I made sure to leave the place looking nice the night I got caught,"

"Wait, what?" I asked, unsure of what he was hinting at. I guessed this wasn't a product of Pixie.

He just smiled at me cunningly.

"Wait, so you…planned to get caught---and sent to Arkham?" I asked finally, his knowing smile setting into my mind.

"It was the only way I knew I could get a hold of you—when I heard you were…back…in Gotham—well, that was exciting enough for me. But then I heard through the…grapevine…that you were at Arkham, of all places. Easy for me to get in there—I'm _crazy_, you know," he explained.

"I can't believe it—and there I was thinking, wow, what an idiot to get caught stealing from a museum," I laughed at my stupidity. I really was out of practice with the Joker. It had been too long for me to be separated from him.

He licked his lips and stared hard into my eyes, "you know me better than you think you do—I haven't changed. Trust your…instincts with me. You'll be right when everyone else will be wrong—except maybe, the Bat," he snickered, "but you…you're something else, Giada," He brushed his gloved hand up by my ear and pushed the hair away from my face.

He leaned in, ready to whisper something to me, "I also know more about you than you think I do, remember?"

"Yes," I breathed, completely unable to make an audible sound. He had me breathless—speechless like the first night we were together.

"I know you're…" he cleared his throat, "jealous, of Pixie—but I assure you, she's nothing to me. I also know you're…upset…about the drugs. But see, it was my way of…dealing with…her. I can't stand her. So…I'd just…shoot up…or snort a line with her—mostly to shut her up—mostly for me to…get away from her," he explained.

"You know I did cocaine—I was addicted to it," I whispered.

"Mmhm. And I don't want to leave you feeling jealous of Pixie either. Admit it, Giada—you want to snort a line with me,"

He hit the nail on the head, but I didn't want to get back into drugs. I was jealous of her doing my drug with him, but I didn't want to get into drugs. I shook my head.

"You're absolutely right, but I don't have any desire to do drugs again—I'm clean and I love it," I spoke, fully capable of finding my voice.

"I have two lines over there—one for me and one for you—that's it—that's all, for the rest of our lives," he said, "I won't let you get addicted again—and I know you won't let me get addicted,"

"You weren't addicted before? You did _heroine_," I mused.

"I don't get addicted to drugs easily, Giada," he explained. Everything was whirling around my head so fast I could barely breathe. His scent, the apartment, the fact I could do cocaine one last time and have it be with him—I could become Jade with him. The music changed to a song I knew, "Slowly" by Amon Tobin. Everything about him and the way he spoke was seductive. He was seducing as he led me over to the dresser with the cocaine on it. He handed me a small paper tube.

"You first," he said. I took the tube and bent down and snorted the line. I nearly gagged as the terrible taste of the drug slowly leaked down the back of my throat. I forgot how much I hated the taste of cocaine. I watched him as he leaned down and snorted his line. He took it like a champ. It didn't take long before my heart started racing and the world around me was altered. His eyes were dark and seductive as he took my head in his hands and placed his lips to mine.

I fell loose in his arms as he placed me down on the bed and crawled on top of me. We undressed each other slowly, in time to the song. It felt perfect—I was elated. He kissed down my neck slowly until he got to my chest. He unsnapped my bra and tossed it to the ground. I rolled over on top of him and pulled his pants and boxer briefs off. He pulled me down onto him and spread kisses all across my body, like a thousand butterflies. They had all escaped from my stomach and were now covering my entire body.

I moaned softly into his ear as he placed himself inside me. I rocked back on him and he let out a soft groan. I rode on top of him for several minutes, until he flipped me over and did me from behind. I reached back and grabbed onto his hair and he pulsed himself in and out.

"Oh, Giada—I've missed…this feeling," he breathed heavily into my ear as he pulled on my hair.

"Me too," I sighed as I leaned over further, allowing him to penetrate me deeper. I was a perfect state of bliss—we were racing inside, but everything was slowly.


	52. Say It Ain't So

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52. Say It Ain't So

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_Disclaimer: For those of you wondering, I have never tried cocaine—and I don't plan on it haha! I read a book about it my freshman year of college for a class, so I know a little bit about it—from what I can remember from the book. Also, my best friend tried it and said it tasted awful, which is how I know it does. I just felt that the moment was fitting for the Joker and Giada because it shows their imperfections as characters, especially Giada's. It shows we are all susceptible to having weak moments, right on wrong. It's just a part of being human. Finally, the scene Giada has later on in the chapter is something I took from 10 Things I Hate About You. I just watched it yesterday and Heath's character reminded me a pre-Joker Joker hahaha…so I guess, imagine that when you are reading it! I do not own 10 Things I Hate About You. Hope you all continue to read and enjoy! I really love all of the reviews you send me! _

The Joker's lips trailed slowly up my stomach to my neck, where he let his tongue and teeth graze my skin delicately. I squirmed in his arms at the tickling sensation.

"S…s…stop it! That tickles!" I giggled as he held me pinned to the bed. He simply snickered in my ear and continued pleasurably torturing me. I wiggled my wrists free from his grasp and shoved my hands against his face, further smearing the makeup that decorated his carefully sculpted features.

"Okay, I'm done now," he surrendered and flopped onto his back beside me.

"So glad you feel that way," I sighed, finally able to relax. I remained on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

It was a strange feeling knowing he was lying right there beside me. Completely silent, his chest rhythmically rose and fell while he too stared off into the void of the ceiling. Our bodies were close, just barely touching. The heat from his sent goosebumps shivering up my arms and down my legs. I never remembered him feeling this warm to me, but I didn't really mind.

Part of me just wanted to curl up close to him and wrap my arms about his torso and never let go. I could always try and reap the consequences later—maybe he wouldn't mind cuddling with me. Maybe he would cut my face. There's no telling with the Joker. I wondered how long we would remain in the bed—how much longer it would be until I would get the real surprise—and not the prelude, which had been pretty fantastic. I was pretty sure that I would be happy getting to make love to him every single day and night. I was positive he wouldn't complain either.

I was so content just being by his side, even in absolute silence, I almost didn't even care about the surprise. I didn't want to move from this moment—this position. I was afraid to move, lest he decide it be time to get going. But I needed to touch him. I needed to reach out for his hand. I took in a deep breath and moved my arm slightly; but I didn't even have the chance to find his hand. His hand found mine first. My heart nearly exploded as he took my hand in his.

We remained laying still on the bed, on our backs, my right hand fingers laced with his left hand fingers. I glanced over at him to just observe him for a moment in a state of peaceful bliss, staring into nothingness. There was something tragically beautiful about his face and the way the makeup was smeared and smudged in certain areas, while it was completely missing in others. The scars and his lips were only tainted red from the paint, and the black that surrounded his eyes ran into the remaining white, making some shade of grey in the areas surrounding his eyes. For some reason, I always loved the intensity the black paint brought out in his dark eyes. The way he would stare into my eyes always made me tremble with excitement—the thrill of never really quite knowing what was running through his mind as his eyes stared back.

I shuddered at the thought as it sent goosebumps returning to my body. Unfortunately, my shiver broke through his moment of serenity. He turned his head abruptly, as it to make sure I was okay. I turned my head to meet his gaze. I just smiled at him. He simply unlocked his fingers from mine and reached his arms out. The Joker pulled me closer to him and gently rolled me over onto my side. His arm finished wrapping itself around me as he pressed the warm front of his body to the back of mine. Spooning. I loved it. I guess he _was_ in a cuddly mood. Or maybe this was his way of keeping me from shivering again. Either way, I didn't care. I was lying in the Joker's arms in a relatively romantic position. I was absolutely elated. There wasn't much that could ruin the moment for me.

"I think it's time we…get that surprise," the Joker said finally into my ear. Nothing could have ruined the moment—except having him break it! I bit my lip and turned around in his arms so that I could face him.

"I guess we could do that," I replied.

"Well, if you don't want the surprise, that's alright too," he coaxed, licking his lips, "but I know it is something you are going to enjoy,"

"I don't doubt it. Let's go then," I responded, returning his grin. He released me from his hold, sat up on the edge of the bed and then stood to his feet. I followed his lead by picking up my clothes and starting to dress myself.

"You should wear this," he said suddenly, tossing me some familiar looking clothing. My heart nearly stopped as the black and red clothing from my past fell into my hands.

"You still have these?!" I exclaimed, nearly in shock. I examined them over and they looked like they were in great condition.

"I couldn't throw something like _that_ away," he giggled as he pointed to the corset. I pursed my lips and nodded my head.

"So what did you do with it for the past two years?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A lot of this," he made a jacking-off motion with his right hand. My face flared red at his gesture. We just both laughed and continued getting dressed.

"Want me to complete myself with the face paint too?" I asked, facing him in my black and red Jade costume. A grin curled up his lips and he walked over to me. Taking my head in his hand, he placed his lips to mine before answering.

"Absolutely," he replied, smirking, "Except, _I _want to paint your face—and you can paint mine," I let out a nervous laugh. How was I supposed to paint his face the way he does? He always manages to make it look so messy. I was much more careful when applying my face paint—I tried to make it look nice. It made me nervous having him apply mine!

"Uh, okay," I chuckled as I took the white paint in my hand.

"You can go firssssttt," he coaxed, raising his eyebrows. He licked his lips again and then closed his eyes. I squirted out a decent amount of white paint and smeared it all over his face. Then I took the black paint and smudged it all over his eyes and around them. I nodded my head in approval of my work, but then I realized I had to still paint the red on his lips. Damn it! I wasn't sure how much he usually put on his lips and scars.

I tentatively took the red paint in my hand and blotted it onto his scars, followed by his lips. I took a step back from him to observe my work. I nodded in satisfaction. It wasn't a half bad job. He opened his eyes and glanced into the mirror. A wide grin crossed his face.

"Well done!" he giggled, and then turned to me, "now it's my turn," his voice was low. I gulped, a bit nervous for what he would do to my face. I followed his lead and closed my eyes. I heard him squeeze a tube of face paint and then felt the cold wetness as his fingers spread it across my face. I felt his fingers graze lightly over my eyes as the paint covered them. Finally, he reached my lips and lightly tapped the paint to them.

"Voila!" he exclaimed. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror. The white paint was messily done, like his—but my eyes and my lips were different. He painted my eyes with the black and red—black on my lids and the red just above them. Finally, the biggest change, he used the black on my lips. It was a striking difference, but it worked. I smiled at him.

"I like it," I said.

"It's…perfect," he spoke, raising his eyebrows. I grinned back at him in satisfaction. I reached my hands out to grab a hold of him, but he held me at arms length. I frowned at his slight rejection.

"We can't delay the…surprise…any longer. I'm just _too_ eager to see your face!" he exclaimed behind a cloud of giggles.

"This really better be worth everything," I retorted with a slight grin.

"Oh it will be—I promise. But first—we must go prepared," he said, raising a hand and then motioning for me to follow him through the rest of his apartment. He opened a drawer of 'supplies', I guess you could call it. He tossed me a 9mm gun, his peeler switch blade knife, and slid another 9mm into his jacket pocket. He then carefully removed two grenades and handed one to me.

I just held onto the weapons, completely unaware as to how to load myself with them. My expression must have left me obviously open for judgment; the Joker laughed as he stared at me.

"Here, like this," he chuckled as he placed the 9mm into the side of my pants. He slid the switchblade into the outside pocket of my jacket. Finally, he hooked up the grenade in the inside pocket of my jacket. I beamed up at him, glad to have him help me out in my moment of slight naivety. He smirked back at me and then fled through the kitchen to the window. I followed him down the fire escape and into the dark alley.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, huffing as I tried keeping up with his quick pace. He really _was_ eager to give me my surprise. It was never an issue for me keeping up with him before—I guess he was just excited or I was horribly out of shape! I opted for first, but assumed it was probably the latter.

"It's all a surprise, Giada—you will remember…the place—but you will…love…what happens there," he snickered back at me, slightly slowing his pace, seeing how much further behind him I was lagging.

"Oh good. I can just imagine the good memories I'll after tonight is over," I mocked his enthusiasm. I had to admit, I was a bit skeptical of this surprise—there was so much built up on it now that I was beginning to prepare myself to be let down. I hated surprises that are built up to be amazing. My life motto: hope for the best, but expect the worst. I figured now would be a good time to uphold my life motto.

We twisted and turned down various alley ways in the darkness. I really hoped Bruce wasn't out tonight. I figured he probably was, but the last thing he needed tonight was to see me with the Joker—NOT in Arkham, but on the streets. I just knew if Bruce saw us he would turn in the Joker—and I would be left alone. Again. I loved Bruce, but his enthusiasm for justice against the Joker—the man I loved—was getting a bit ridiculous. I guess he did have good reason to hate him—setting up the murder of his beloved Rachael, but the Joker didn't actually kill her with his bare hands. I wanted to be there for my best friend, but I couldn't help but follow the Joker.

"Here…we…are," the Joker spoke, turning to me as we came to a halt. I had realized just how lost in my thoughts I was. I was surprised we made it in what felt like a short time. The expression on his face was priceless. He was literally, beaming with excitement and evil. I couldn't pin point why he looked so conniving, but I figured it was part of the plan—or the surprise rather.

"You look so evil. I really don't want to be disappointed by this, you know," I decided calling him out on his expression was better than being let down once we went inside the building.

"You'll be quite—satisfied—when we go inside, Giada—and do what we are about to do. This is the best surprise gift of all—especially for _you_," he hinted as he winked at me.

"If we ever have kids, remind me to never let you give them surprises," I muttered as I followed him into the building.

"Hm? What was that?" he asked, turning towards me and closing the door lightly behind us.

"Nothing. It was nothing," I lied, rolling my eyes. Not that it mattered. It was so dark inside the building we couldn't even see each other. Well, all we could see was the white of our face paint.

"This way," he whispered and pulled me along down a narrow hallway and then stopped at what appeared to be a door.

"When I open this door, we're going to go inside. When you feel it…necessary…pull out a weapon of your choice—and use it," he instructed.

"How will I know when and if I want to use a weapon?" I asked, getting nervous.

He giggled quietly, "Oh Giada—you're going to want to use them all as soon as we get through the door,"

"Okay," I hesitated for a moment. He reached his hand for the knob.

"Wait," I whispered.

"What?" he asked, a bit irritated. He didn't like stalling the surprise I guessed.

"If I freak out, don't judge me, okay? And maybe…give me some reinforcements or something?" I asked. He grinned and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I've got your back…Jade," he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, you can at least have the confidence of knowing if this goes over well, you're having a good time with me tonight when we are back at your place," I replied, licking my lips in return. He just raised his eyebrows again, leaned towards me and licked the very edge of my face.

"Let's go," he whispered finally, his voice low and sultry. I counted inside my head _one, two three!_ He opened the door and a flood of light poured over him. He then dragged me into the light as he walked through the door way.

"You're back! I knew you'd escape!" a disgusting high pitched voice shrieked. I glanced up and saw Pixie darting across the room towards the Joker and I. She didn't even flinch as she saw me. She just bounded right into his open arms. I wanted to die. I frantically reached for my nearest weapon. This was my chance to finally cut the bitch. My heart was racing erratically. I couldn't even breathe anymore. I forgot _how_ to breathe. I just wanted her dead. The only thought rushing through my brain was blowing her brains out of her head. Cutting her face. Shoving the grenade into her mouth and pulling the trigger. Any horrible and gruesome way I could eradicate her existence from this earth. I glanced over at the Joker, who was still holding tightly onto her tall, thin body. I wanted to puke. He glared down at me, as though mouthing to me to shoot her or something. I frantically fumbled for a weapon, but wasn't sure how to disconnect the grenade. It felt like it was stuck. Okay, next weapon—the gun. My stupid pants were too tight! It was stuck too. Fuck it. The blade. Shit. Where'd the blade go. I searched my pockets. I couldn't find it either. Fuckin'a!

Pixie stepped back from the Joker and glared down at me. I hated that she was taller than me by a good four inches.

"Well, look who you've brought back with you—if it isn't little Jade," she mocked. That was it. She called me little Jade. This bitch was gone.

"If you're gonna address me, bitch, you better fuckin' say my name—and 'little Jade' ain't it," I spat back at her angrily.

"Woo! She's feisty! I guess you like them like that, huh, dontcha J?" she asked, cutesy. "What, am I not feisty enough for you? You had to go back and find your little…harlequin side kick? What's wrong with having me around? You can't deny we've had _fun_ together—all these years," she coaxed.

"Ha! Don't even begin to tell me that sap of a story!" I exclaimed, almost in hysterics, laughing. I knew her story with the Joker.

"Oh, so he told you about our…engagement?" she asked, reaching for his hand. He pulled it away from her and reached for his switchblade.

"Your engagement, right. The engagement that you apparently broke off because you were too perfect to be with someone that has war scars on their face. Real classy, whore,"

"Who are you calling 'whore'? Do you even know what that is, little girl?" she fought back.

"Don't even _try_ testing me. I think you know better than me, the definition of whore. I could rightfully label you as such. Whore." I replied.

"J, are you really gonna let this clown talk to me like this?" Pixie turned to her Joker and placed her hands on her hips.

The Joker remained silent. He simply held up his switchblade and smiled back at her. He then glanced down at me and winked.

"He doesn't love you, you know. He never loved you—he's always loved me," Pixie spit fire at me.

"I'm not asking for him to love me. Regardless of how I feel for him, I don't have many requests of people in my life, but I do request that I be respected. You, however, have failed to respect me in _so_ many ways I can't even count! First, despite my feelings for the Joker, I can't condone someone—_anyone_—breaking off an engagement to someone they once proclaimed their love for because of superficial markings obtained in a war! Second, you saw our relationship—whatever it was—and you took it from me. You had your chance, and you blew it. I'm not even saying that I had or even _will_ be able to have his love, but I _did_ have something that I valued and you took it from me. You made him lie to me—you made him lie to me about losing his memory of me—and that…_that_ is something I cannot condone. You have disrespected me to the highest degree, and now you're gonna pay for it," I finally managed to wiggle the gun from my pants. I slowly raised the gun and pointed it at her face.

She took a step back and held up her hand, "wait a second, Jade," she said.

"You have ten seconds. Start pleading," I said flatly, knowing full well I was going to blow her head off regardless of anything she was about to say to me.

"I didn't tell him to lie to you—he did that all on his own. Be mad at him…not me," she shot a look of distress towards her former lover. He simply raised his switchblade and took a step closer towards her.

"Pixie, I've waited too long to do this—to put a smile on your face," he smiled at her a completely sadistic and twisted smile. He couldn't wait to cut her face. I couldn't wait to see him cut her face.

Suddenly, everything around me stopped—or at least it seemed to stop. All I could see in my mind was a flashback—not a flashback of anything I should remember, but rather, a flashback of another memory—one that belonged to someone else. It was as though I was remembering for them…

_The Joker sat in a classroom. It looked like a biology class of some sort. His hair was a bit longer back then, and brown. Still curly. He whipped out a switchblade, spun it effortlessly in his hand and slammed it down into the dissection of the day. Across the room, I saw a blonde haired young girl staring at him, googley-eyed, with a perfectly dissected frog sitting in front of her. Pixie. The Joker, or, Jack, as he was back in those days, proceeded to turn on the lab station gas and light up his cigarette. Pixie continued staring at him in complete awe. Her big blue eyes, full of hope and excitement met his dark brown eyes. She smiled at him, but he just glanced away. _

The haze broke off as the Joker took another step towards Pixie. He was holding onto the blade as vengeance burned in his eyes. I could tell he never quite got over the wound she cut into him. Now he was about to physically leave his wound on her. I was going to witness this. Or maybe I would shoot her before he got to her. Then, right as I was about to pull the trigger, she looked up at me, the same big blue eyes I saw her staring at the Joker in my vision. In that moment, I didn't want to kill her. She was just that stupid high school kid with a huge crush on the wrong guy. We'd all been there. I'd been there. Hell, I was living it! I was her! Except, I wasn't going to win the guy and fuck him over in the end over superficial details. She fucked up. She had her chance.

I raised the gun again, ready to pull the trigger.

"Please…Joker…don't do this—you can't," she pleaded, this time softly. She folded her arms about her body and glanced down at herself.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your head off," I asked, forcefully, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Jack," she looked up at him. The Joker froze in his place. No one had called him by his name in years. I had known what it was, and we had talked about it, but I never called him Jack. That was taking it too far.

"That's it. Say good-bye, bitch," I responded angrily.

"Jack, I'm pregnant," she blurted out.

He and I stood in silence, frozen in place. I dropped my gun to my side. Say it ain't so! I bit my lip. I felt all of the blood flow from my face, leaving it white and numb. I shook my head.

"No---no you're not! Don't lie about shit like that!" I shrieked at her. I raised the gun again.

"You don't have to believe me. But if you shoot me, you'll be killing an innocent life as well," she stabbed back at me.

"Your problem, not mine. Maybe next time you'll wear a condom," I retorted, really pissed off now. I glanced over at the Joker. He was still frozen, not moving. I couldn't tell if he was livid or if he was actually running through each night he'd spent with her to see if it was actually possible that she was pregnant with his child.

"On the count of three—you're out of the game," I spoke through clenched teeth. Some surprise this was. _So_ not worth it! I wanted to just kill her—not kill her as a pregnant witch! I didn't want to kill her if she was preggers, but I still wanted to kill her. I bet she wasn't even pregnant. But there was no way for me to find out. What was I going to do—hold her at gun point all the way down to the CVS to get a pregnancy test and then hold her at gunpoint until she peed on the stick? Hm...not a bad thought.

"Giada, please—put the gun down," the Joker said quietly finally. Where was his vengeance?! Where was his anger? Where was the agent of chaos?!

"Where's the chaos?! What, did _your_ balls drop off?!" I shrieked at him. He glared at me.

"I'm not going to let you kill a pregnant woman, Giada—as much as I want her dead too, I can't let that happen. Even to a guy like me…that's cold," he explained, licking his lips.

"Say it ain't so!" I lamented, throwing my hand to my side, still clutching the gun.


	53. Objective Analysis

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53. Objective Analysis

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_Disclaimer: I can't thank you all enough for the reviews!!!! I love that you love the plot twists hahaha I love them too hehehe. I guess we'll have to see what happens then, won't we????_

Under my skin, I felt my blood reaching boiling point. I could literally feel each tiny bubble coming to the surface in an attempt at evaporating. I could only guess just how red my face was. I didn't care. I had never been so pissed off, angry, hurt, disappointed, enraged—anything—in my entire life. I wanted Pixie dead—but I also wanted the Joker dead too. In that moment where he told me to put down my gun, I wanted to pop a cap in _his_ ass too!

I lowered my gun like an obedient girl; I wasn't about to treated like a petulant child. I merely bit my lip to prevent myself from exploding and killing them both. I knew that as badly as I wanted the Joker to die with Pixie, I would regret it later on once I cooled down. I closed my eyes for a moment and took in a couple of deep breaths. Therapy. Breathe…in…and out. It was always so much harder trying to counsel myself!

"Can we go talk…in private for a minute?" Pixie's voice screeched through my calming brain. My eyes flew open in irritation and mine met hers. She looked startled that she disturbed. The Joker saw how fuming I was, so he nodded in silence and took followed her into another room. I was oddly relieved to have them both out of my sight. I closed my eyes again and tried breathing…in…and…out.

"Fuck this breathing shit," I muttered finally after a couple of breaths. I raised my arm, cocked the gun, and pointed it at the vacant sofa. Without thinking twice, my finger pulled the trigger. The loud bang of the gun echoed throughout the tiny apartment; the bullet left a smoking hole back of the sofa. I smirked at the thought of destroying Pixie's apartment one piece of furniture at a time with my gun.

Suddenly, the door flew open and the Joker's eyes were wild. He must have thought I shot myself or something.

"Giada! Don't fire that shit while we're in here!" the Joker exclaimed wildly.

"Yeah, what are you, crazy or something?!" Pixie shrieked back. The Joker shot her a look of death and then glanced back to me. I raised the gun and pointed it at them.

"I'd suggest you shut that fuckin' door and get your little meeting over with before I blow _both_ your heads off," I responded, quite calmly but very demandingly. They exchanged looks of concern and then shut the door.

My other hand traveled into my coat pocket. The switchblade! It was there all along. God damnit! I removed the blade and pressed the button, exposing the blade that resembled a peeling knife. I then sat down on the sofa and began carving the pillows and seat cushions.

My thoughts began wandering as I absentmindedly carved the sofa, engraving all kinds of words and images into Pixie's prized couch. My favorite one consisted of the Joker giving the Batman a blowjob while Pixie had a pole through her head. I snickered at my graphic carving.

What the hell could they be talking about for so long? There was no way she was really pregnant. She had to have been lying just so we couldn't kill her. I had to admit, her plan worked, but not for long. As soon as I could prove she was a phony, that bitch was as good as gone. And the Joker—that bastard for sleeping with her! I then realized my anger for him hadn't subsided like I thought it would. Hm. Maybe I _should_ kill them both. I shrugged at the thought of putting bullets through their heads. This whole situation was completely unnecessary! Some surprise the Joker had for me. I bet he knew this all along. What if this was the surprise?! Another cruel joke of the idiot psychologist!

I clenched my hand tighter around the knife and stabbed it harder into the couch.

"You are so dead," I murmured under my breath. I then yanked my hand up from stabbing the couch. The knife was stuck in the couch. I must have stabbed into the wooden frame. Son of a bitch! I stood to my feet and latched onto the knife with both hands and pulled as hard as I could. Finally, with enough oomph, the knife slid out of the couch and slid itself across my hand and wrist.

"Oh damn it all!" I cussed, dropping the knife and holding my arm with my left hand. The blood dripped down my hand and onto the couch. A grin slid across my face. Perfect! I then smeared my bloody hand and wrist all over Pixie's sofa, ending my endeavor by holding a pillow over my wound to collect the blood.

"No—no, no,no—that's crossing a line," I heard the Joker state from behind the door. I paused in my pain and excitement to see if I could hear what was being said behind those closed walls.

"Well, what do you expect of me, then, huh Jack? I mean, you've only known me for…how long?" Pixie interrogated. I wanted to slit her throat. The mere sound of her voice sent chills of angst down my spine.

"Years too long. The answer is no," the Joker stated.

The raw image of him fucking her—possibly in this very apartment, possibly in the apartment _we_ made love in—crept slowly into my head. If that whore was pregnant at all, it had better not be his child. My stomach churned at the possibility of her bearing his child. She seemed to get everything I'd ever wanted from him that I never could obtain…without even trying! She got to be his fiancée, she got to hear him tell her he loved her, and now she's supposedly carrying his baby. I couldn't escape my immense loathing for her.

And what about the Joker? What about my loathing for him? Of course I was angry that he had slept with her. How could he possibly do something like that to me? But, of course, my rational side can't help but interfere with situation at hand. Who was I to claim him as my own? Our relationship had always been complicated—we never had anything even close to a label on what we were to each other. The only definitive was that we both cared for each other—but to what extent always remained an unknown. I had been gone for two years—by my choice. Who was I to be upset he'd slept with Pixie? He was never mine to lose. Had I any real right in being so upset? Of course I had every right to be upset, but was it rational? Not entirely. It was a human emotion—a normal reaction of jealousy and anger. But when objectively examining the situation, I had no right in being so upset at the Joker…or Pixie for that matter.

After the battle ceased inside my head, I glanced up, realizing I had missed much of the conversation I had been trying to hear. I looked down at my bleeding arm and dropped the pillow down to the couch. I raised my eyes once more to the door and took in a deep breath.

There was no reason for me to remain the apartment. There was no reason for me to remain upset and angry. I needed to bandage up my arm. I reached down and grabbed the knife and gun and ran from the apartment. I ran through the black corridor and out into the streets. I hoped I could run as fast as I could home without Bruce finding me before I made it back. This would be the last thing he'd need to find on Christmas Eve.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I made it back to my apartment in record time. I immediately took to the bathroom and ran the shower. I cleansed myself of the face paint and blood. Once I was dry and clothed, I sat in my living room and began bandaging my wound with my own emergency medical kit.

"Giada? What happened?" Batman's voice rang harshly through my ears. I looked up and saw him standing inside my apartment, next to the window. I really needed to fix that window's lock.

"Nothing. I slipped with the knife when making myself some dinner," I lied as I averted my eyes back to my wrist and the gash.

He approached me and knelt down on the floor beside me, "Looks like you need sutures," Batman examined. I grinned at him.

"Oh, why thank you, Dr. Bat," I joked, "Care to help me then?"

"No problem," he replied, removing the sutures from my kit and a sterile needle. He handed me the sutures and needle while he cleaned my arm off with rubbing alcohol.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice still low in the Batman voice. I nodded and held my breath. I had never given myself stitches without any kind of numbing agent. I figured I had been through enough physical pain in my life that I could handle it. Batman pierced my skin and I winced, but the first stitch was the worst. As he kept somewhat of a rhythm going, it got more and more bearable.

When he finished, he cut the suture and tied off the end. Looking at me in the eyes, his face was serious now, "So, are you going to tell me how you really got this gash in your arm?"

I shook my head, "You don't want to know. You really don't. All I can say is, this was the _worst_ Christmas Eve I've ever had," I admitted, near tears. Bruce, feeling compassion for the pain he saw in my eyes, placed his hand on my face and placed his lips to mine.

As Batman's lips collided with mine, the door to my apartment opened. The Joker walked right in, figuring this was where he'd finally find me. He was right—but he didn't anticipate the Batman to be with me…and certainly not kissing me—the one person he truly cared for.

He froze in the doorway, unsure of what to do or say. As Batman pulled away from me, I smiled to myself, thinking that it was a kind gesture of my friend to make me feel a little better. I hadn't anticipated regretting it in the same instant when I lifted my eyes as the Joker standing in the door way. My eyes gave me away, but the Joker covered up his expression expertly.

A smirk crossed his lips and he started laughing, "Batsy! I didn't know you were into," he cleared his throat, "emotional ties,"

Batman spun himself around in an instant and I jumped to my feet.

"Please don't—" I began.

"You—what are you doing out of Arkham?!" Batman growled at the Joker, completely cutting me off.

"Batman—he's going back tonight—we had a deal—didn't we?" I eyed the Joker and he nodded to me with apologetic eyes. Batman spun back around to observe the expression on my face. Suddenly, he was able to put two and two together.

"Giada," he spoke to me in his low husky voice, "did he do this to you?"

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, "I did it to myself!" I stopped suddenly, as the expression of both of their faces melted into grim appearances. I realized how that sounded—like I had intentionally hurt myself. I shook my head fervently.

"No—it's not like that—I didn't do it on purpose…" I urged, trying to put a sense of calm back into their faces. The Joker approached me slowly, eager to get a better look at my stitched up arm. Batman was still facing me as he took a hold of my busted wrist and hand.

"So you mean to tell me…that this was an accident?" he wheezed, narrowing his eyes. He then shot a glare at the Joker, who was now standing beside him.

"Yes—see, I was using this knife," I wielded the switchblade from my pocket in one swift motion, snapping the blade into place, "and it got…stuck…and I had to pull it out and—well…look at my arm!" I exclaimed. A small grin escaped from the Joker's lips. He now knew a bit of the story of why there was blood on Pixie's couch. It certainly amused him—it amused me too! But Batman was no convinced.

"Giada—this kind of wound could have killed you," Batman breathed.

"Look who you're talking to, Bru…Batman," I nearly slipped. I wanted to just tell the Joker he was Bruce Wayne, but I knew the Joker wouldn't appreciate that all too much, "I'm a nurse practitioner. I'm well aware of where on my body an incision can prove fatal,"

"Well then take more care next time you're handling a knife—maybe stick to a gun or something," Batman said sarcastically.

"Oh she had that too," the Joker snickered. Batman shot him an intense glare.

"Like I said—it was the worst Christmas Eve ever. Please don't be upset with me—I meant no harm—really," I pleaded with him. I was so afraid of disappointing Bruce, it hadn't even occurred to me that I could be disappointing the Joker. I guess he wasn't exactly high up on my list of people who NOT to disappoint this evening.

"Giada, I know you are capable of doing whatever you choose for yourself—but most of all, I know that there is a part of you inside that yearns to do what it good. Until you find that, I can't help you—I can only point you in that direction. As long as you take up sides with…him…there's only so much I can do for you," Batman explained. My heart sank, but I knew it was true. As long as I was siding with the Joker, I knew that Bruce had a limited place in my life. Well, as Batman at least. As Bruce, he could be with me as much as I allowed him to be. Then again, I wasn't so sure he would want to be around me after this. I think he noticed this in the somber expression that possessed my face.

"Don't worry—I'll be here," he whispered in his low voice. "And as for you—you're coming with me. You have an asylum to get back to," He glared at the Joker.

"Now, Batsy—you had your little…moment…with Giada. I want one too—before we go," the Joker stated, licking his lips. Batman blinked his eyes and turned to the window.

"I'll be on the roof," Batman growled as he disappeared into the darkness outside my window. The Joker wandered to the window and closed it tightly and turned back towards me.

"Giada,"

"I don't want to hear anything. I was there—I know what she said and I know what I am not allowed to do because of said situation. I know I can't be angry anymore. As livid and outraged as I was, it was really not my place to feel that way—you were—just…well…I don't know what you were doing for those two years I was gone. But the point was…I was gone…and well…we were never…a thing—so I have no right to be…upset. Objective analysis, you see," I breathed in nervously as he approached me.

"Sometimes I wish I could see things the way you do—but I have to say…I never saw this reaction coming from you!" he exclaimed, almost in laughter. I was taken back by his remark. I wasn't sure if I should feel insulted or not. I remained silent, for fear of saying something I would regret later.

"I still don't think you take me at my word, Giiiiiiada," he sang as he walked even closer to me. He reached out and took my sutured hand in his gloved hand.

"Why's that?" I asked, trying to hold back my frustration.

"Because—there's a part of you that still believes I…" he cleared his throat, "love…Pixie," he nearly choked on the words. My eyes widened a bit at his response.

"Go on," I said.

"I know this is true for you because…you believe…somewhere, deep in that brilliant brain of yours that…her…revelation…was my surprise for you," he continued explaining.

"I suppose you're right on that," I replied as a small smirk curled up on my lips. He returned my smile. I never did doubt his ability to read me like a book.

"I'm going to leave you with this parting thought—just so you can…objectively analyze it," he licked his lips and grinned at me. He continued holding lightly onto my hand.

"I'd been in…love" he choked out the word again. Curious. "before, but for me…this is something…new. Giada, see, when I get next to you—I get dizzy," he raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. I blushed at his explanation. I made him dizzy. Well, psychologically speaking, that wasn't a very good thing for him to say, but emotionally, it made me blush.

He released my hand and headed toward the window. As he stepped out onto the fire escape, I stopped him.

"Wait," I called over to him and bolted to the escape where he stood. He knelt down and put his face right next to mine.

"Is she really pregnant? Is it really yours?" I asked, no longer able to keep the questions from coming.

"That's not for tonight. Now we'll have something more fun to talk about in our session," he licked his lips again. I nodded my head and watched him go up the fire escape.

I turned back into my living room and pondered his words. It was always a difficult thing, objectively analyzing the man you love.


	54. Our Crazy World

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54. Our Crazy World

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all so much for reviewing and reading!!!!! I am in love with all of you!! _

The next morning I awoke to Christmas Day—to what I figured would be a horribly mundane Christmas Day. I didn't have to go in to work until the afternoon, which both pleased and irritated me. I wanted to both be away from and with the Joker. From the moment my eyes opened, I couldn't get him from my mind and the questions that went along with his name. I sat up in bed and thought through the situations of the previous night. I hadn't forgotten the Joker had walked in on Batman kissing me—I had just tried forcing it from my mind. I wished I had seen his expression—if it was full of anxiety or just gleeful surprise. I could never quite tell with the Joker.

And Bruce. He knew I helped get the Joker out of Arkham last night—he knew something had happened to me…and my arm. I knew he wasn't pleased. I just hoped he wouldn't be too furious with me. I couldn't believe I was capable of hurting Bruce like that. Then again, with the things I'd done in my life since first arriving to Gotham, I was capable of pretty much anything. That fact disturbed through and through. I didn't particularly want to be dangerous and destructive—especially not of human emotions. I wanted to embrace and feel others' emotions and motives. I was certainly wrapped up completely in the Joker's motives and emotions. I knew for sure he could feel emotion—one cannot passionately feel love without passionately feeling hate. I knew he had to, at the very least, the capability of feeling love if he could feel hate so fervently. With that philosophy in mind, then the opposite of love would be apathy. And I knew he wasn't apathetic towards me—or anything really. I guessed this was good news.

But Bruce. Could Bruce turn apathetic towards me? No, I couldn't see Bruce losing the fire—the passion—within him. I certainly hoped he would never become apathetic towards me. Just as I could never bear losing the Joker, I could never bear losing Bruce. He was my fire for justice in the hearts of those who had none.

But the Joker—he was my fire for something so much more—something much greater. He stood for something I couldn't even put my finger on. He was the symbol of human nature at its depth—human nature at its very core. Raw. Bold. Fluid. He understood the process of human thinking and human actions. He was the allegory of human suffering and understanding. He was the benefactor of intelligence in mankind—by instilling fear in those who misunderstood him, he was proving that intelligence was absent in the minds of those who feared him. People who have fear do not understand—and are in a sense, ignorant. He was simply proving that chaos ensues because of fear of the unknown—the revolt that each and every human must take in order to achieve true intelligence—the quest we must all take in order to understand life. I remembered learning this lesson in philosophy through the readings and teachings by Krishnamurti. He had it right. The Joker had it right.

I smiled to myself. The Joker was following philosophical wisdom. I wondered if he knew he was living out Krishnamurti's teachings. Probably not. Then again, the Joker wasn't one who let on to his though processes. I was just lucky enough to understand him and his mental process.

Rolling over, my feet hit the floor and I left my room for the bathroom. On my way into the hall, I noticed a present sitting on the kitchen table. Curious, I neglected the bathroom and walked the remaining few steps out of the hallway. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of my dear friend Bruce sitting on my sofa. He smiled up at me and then rose to his feet.

"Bruce, what is this? What are you doing here?" I asked, elated that he was smiling at me.

"Merry Christmas, Giada," he simply said, still smiling. He walked over to me and kissed my cheek.

"Oh Bruce, thank you—you didn't have to do this, really," I gestured to the gift, "Having you here means more to me. I…I thought you were furious with me after last night,"

Bruce shook his head and took a step back from me, "I didn't do that one," he pointed to the gift sitting on top of the table. I raised an eyebrow in wonderment. "Go on, open it. It's from…the Joker,"

My heart skipped a beat. The Joker? The Joker sent me a Christmas present? I was pretty sure my Christmas present from his was spoiled by that bitch called Pixie.

"But I thought you took him back to Arkham last night. How did he…?" I asked Bruce as I meandered over to the present.

"I did. He's…safe, in Arkham. He gave it to me to give to you. No doubt, anxious for you to go to work this afternoon," Bruce responded, nonchalantly. Well, this was an aberration. I had no idea the Joker was going to give me a present—nonetheless one delivered to me by Batman.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked, pausing before opening the un-wapped box. Bruce merely shook his head. If I were him, I would have opened the box. There was nothing sealing it shut. I shrugged my shoulders and lifted the lid.

Inside the box was an object hidden inside massive quantities of toilet paper. No doubt this was all he had access to the night he "wrapped" whatever was inside the box. I removed the toilet paper-wrapped object and held it in my hand. It was heavy…and shaped like something familiar. I tore off the toilet paper and in my hand was a 9mm. Attached, was a note.

_Work on your aim. If you fired the gun just a foot higher, you would have hit her through the door. I don't trust you with knives anymore. – J. _

A twisted smile curled up at the corners of my mouth. I let out a small chuckle at the note and ran my hand over the smooth 9mm. It was a shiny silver, but didn't look brand new. It was definitely a hand-me-down, but I didn't care. I lightly ran my fingers over the short barrel of the gun. The feel of each groove sent chills down my spine. It was heady tonic holding something so powerful—the ability to take someone's life in the palm of your hand. It was a mixed feeling I had, holding that gun. I didn't want to kill people—only one person in particular, in my mind, deserved a bullet through their head. Pixie Dust. I would use this weapon to complete that mission of mine, but other than that, I would not use that gun for any other purpose. Well, I guess to train with, like the Joker had written. I suppose I would fear myself with a knife too after what had happened last night.

Bruce cleared his throat, staring hard at me and my Christmas present. Startled, I glanced over at him and grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, I know what it looks like—he gave me a 9mm, but…I swear to you, I'm not going to use it, except maybe on one person…" I broke the silence nervously. I swallowed the spit building up in my mouth.

Bruce shook his head and walked over to me, "I don't care to understand men like him—men who value destruction and death, Giada," Bruce replied with a heavy breath.

"No, you don't understand—he gave it to me as a joke—a bad joke, I guess. Here, read the note," I handed the paper to Bruce and watched his eyes move as he read the pencil scratching. He pursed his lips and handed the note back to me when he finished.

"So that's what you were doing last night—trying to kill Pixie Dust—and you slipped with the knife," Bruce stated flatly, crossing his arms across his chest. I shook my head slowly, negating his theory. I carefully placed the gun down onto the table, along with the note.

"It was so much worse than that," I confessed finally.

"Worse that you weren't able to kill her?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No—worse because I was supposed to kill her and I couldn't. Not because I slipped with the knife—which I'll explain in a second—but because…well…the bitch claimed she was pregnant. The Joker wouldn't let me shoot a hypothetically pregnant woman—even if it _is_ Pixie," I muttered, still angry that she was claiming she was pregnant. A small grin formed unsuspectingly on Bruce's lips.

"So, Pixie Dust is claiming she's pregnant…with the Joker's child?" Bruce asked, no longer trying to hide his grin of dismay.

"Yes—and it's really not all that funny actually," I spat back at him, irritated at his response. I glanced down at the gun and pictured myself pulling the trigger as Pixie stood before me.

"I just find it…ironic…that the Joker won't allow you to kill her. And I find it…amusing…that you want to kill her so badly—even if she is actually pregnant," Bruce chuckled, "Giada, you never cease to amaze me. After all this time, I thought I had you figured out, but I guess there is still that part of you I'll never really understand,"

"Bruce—I could never kill a pregnant woman, trust me. I just want her dead—and I know she has to be lying about it! She knew we went there to kill her last night and she burst out with this pregnancy bullshit, so of course, the Joker was all like 'oh don't shoot her, that's wrong' and I was like 'what the fuck?!' so then they went into another room to talk about it I guess—I don't know about the outcome of that conversation, but while they were alone talking, I took it upon myself to cut up her sofa. In my act of stabbing said sofa, my knife got stuck in the frame and I tried pulling it out and the knife slipped and cut my wrist—as you can see," I showed him the wrist he helped stitch up last night. I paused, remembering the whole situation last night. There was no way Pixie was pregnant with the Joker's baby. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. And Bruce was laughing at it all! How could he laugh at this?! This was a serious matter—one that could potentially end in death.

"Giada, I understand your pain, I really do. But I think sometimes you let your temper get the best of you. Just promise me one thing—if Pixie is actually pregnant, you won't kill her. For once, I think I'm going to agree with the Joker on this one," Bruce instructed, more solemnly this time. I nodded my head. I knew he was right. They both were. But I just couldn't get past that it was Pixie who was preggers. It killed me to think she could be carrying a child that was half the Joker's and half her. Someone could possibly exist in 9 or so months that was genetically both of them. It made my stomach churn.

"I think I need to use the bathroom," I murmured, turned and ran for the bathroom. I lunged at the toilet just in time. My stomach heaved violently and expelled anything that remained in it. Bruce heard my heaving and came into the bathroom. He knelt down beside me and lifted my hair back from my face.

"Giada, it's going to be okay, I promise. Even if it is the Joker's baby, just think about once it's born—you can finally get your…revenge on Pixie," Bruce soothed me, unwilling to admit aloud to the both of us that I was going to kill her in 9 months' time. I shook my head.

"I can't kill a mother, Bruce. If she gives birth to this baby—and it's the Joker baby—I can't kill her. I'll want to—but I can't kill a mother. I bet she'll make a horrible mother, but I can't do it. I can't let an innocent life live without its mother. Sure it will have its father—but that's not saying too much, considering who the father supposedly is," I explained.

Bruce nodded in agreement. I think he felt relieved at my answer. Damn morals. Damn conscience. If I had none of those, I'd have no problem killing her off after the baby's birth. Too bad I wasn't completely chaotic as the Joker. I still had fear. I still had ignorance. I pursed my lips and glanced up at Bruce.

"I wish I could do something about it," I sad finally. Bruce nodded and he helped me to my feet. I ran the water in the sink and flushed my face with the cold water.

"Giada, what time are you supposed to be at Arkham today?" Bruce inquired, glancing at his watch.

"Three," I replied, as I squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush.

"Well, it's just before 2:00 now," Bruce stated.

"Shit," I choked on the toothbrush.

"I'll get out of your way then. Please call me when things become a little clearer to you. I'll be at the penthouse this evening—depending on how Gotham looks tonight. If you can't reach me, I'll have my cell,"

"Okay, thanks again, Bruce," I hugged him, "I'll call you with updates!" I shouted after him as he left the bathroom and then my apartment. I had only thirty minutes to get ready for work—it took me thirty minutes to get to Arkham by subway! I had to move fast…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I ran to the back door at Arkham and swiped my ID badge. The door unlocked, letting me inside, once again. I ran to the clock and punched in. I made it just in time. 3:01 appeared on the clock just as I retrieved my badge. I smiled at my perfect timing, although I usually liked getting to work at least fifteen minutes earlier than needed.

I made my way up to the fourth floor and into my office. I dropped my bags and took my patient charts and made my way up to the 6th floor. I had rounds to do. I met with Amy, the attending NP. She gave her report to me in less than twenty minutes, as I scribbled down her notes on each patient.

"And patient 4479 was oddly compliant this morning. He took both his meds without complaint at 8:00 with breakfast," she reported. Hm. Odd. I hated that he took the meds. He didn't need them. I hoped they wouldn't alter our therapy session. I had been withholding his meds the entire duration of his stay. I wondered why he would bother taking them now.

"Is that it?" I asked, as I finished writing my notes.

"Yes it is. I think there was a note somewhere I read that patient 4479 is being evaluated for potential discharge on the 28th, but I'm not too sure on that one. I mean, come on, why would they release a sociopath like that, right? Unless he's being discharged to the GDP MCU," Amy stated.

"Hm, that is interesting. I'll look into it. He is my patient after all. I feel like if that were going to happen I'd have to give the OK, you know?" I responded, coolly.

"Yes. Well keep me updated. I'd love to hear what's going to happen to him,"

"Will do," I smiled and headed off towards the Joker's room. I was going to find out for sure what's going on with him. I was going to take him myself to the therapy room.

I knocked slightly on his door before swiping my ID and then opened the heavy door. The Joker was sitting at the desk with the lamp on. His lips turned up into a grin at the sight of me.

"Happy Christmas," he greeted me and licked his lips.

"You're coming with me down the hall to the session room," I stated quickly.

"And why's that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We have a number of things to discuss this afternoon—one of them being your possible discharge from Arkham," I retorted, raising my eyebrows at him. He stood to his feet and joined me on the other side of the room. He held out his wrists for me. I took hold of one of them and led him out the door and down the hall. I directed him into the therapy room and closed the door behind us. He pulled out the chair for me and waited for me to take seat before he sat down.

"Quite the gentleman today, aren't we?" I asked with a small smile as I placed his chart on the table.

He licked his lips and leaned in towards me, "well, I'm going to have to get on your good side for this conversation, aren't I," he responded. My heart stopped.

"I…uh…didn't think you were on my bad side," I replied, opening his chart.

"Did Batsy deliver my…gift…to you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes he did. It made me laugh, actually," I replied with a chuckle, remembering the note and the pistol.

"Oh good! I'm so thrilled! I just…couldn't resist…you know. There's so much I can teach you about how to shoot a gun…in the time we have," he said, licking his lips.

"And that time would be…?" I asked, knowing exactly what was coming. The time we had until Pixie would deliver her child.

"Six months," he replied.

"Six months?!" I shrieked. Less time than I had thought! She didn't look all that pregnant when I saw her last night.

"Well, here's the thing…" the Joker began speaking.

"Why…that would mean that she conceived only three months ago—before you were here in Arkham. Ugh! That would mean you last had sex with her while I was back here in Gotham! This is awful, you know that, right? This is possibly the worst thing you could have done to me. I almost with you did lose your memory of me- I think I could handle this a lot better if I thought you didn't know what you were doing—but you did! You knew very well what you were doing! And now she's going to have your kid! This is just great—just fucking fantastic!" I exploded.

The Joker just sat there in silence, waiting for me to stop my rant. He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. I settled down at sat back in my chair.

"Like I was saying…before I was rudely interrupted…the thing is…she's saying she's…pregnant—but there's no definitive saying that it's…mine," he explained.

"But she _is_ pregnant," I confirmed, flatly.

"Yes. But like I said—there's not much pointing to the fact it's mine. As you so…erratically…pointed out—it would have happened three months ago…and as far as I can remember, three months ago, I was focusing on how I was going to get to you," the Joker explained.

"But you were doing drugs with her. It's quite possible you could have slept with her some night you were strung out on heroine," I spat back at him.

"That is also the truth, ..ly," he replied, licking his lips, "The ending fact remains—Pixie is…pregnant…and we won't be able to find out until the…child…is born,"

"There are paternity tests they can do while it's in utero," I responded flatly.

"No—I'm not talking about tests. I'm not getting a paternity test. I'm talking about the eyes. I'll know if it's mine if it has my eyes," he stated matter of factly. I just sat there, dazed and in awe at his remark. I couldn't help but laugh at his logic.

"So, you mean to tell me that you won't get a paternity test because you seem to think if the kid has your eyes—it's yours?" I laughed, trying to hold it in, but failing horribly. He just glared back at me.

"I can't get a paternity test, Giadaaaa. As you know, my alias…as it were…is…gone," he stated finally.

"Well, I can take your blood and get it tested. That's not an issue at all. I'll bring it to the lab my self," I offered, not realizing what I was really getting myself into.

"Giada, could you honestly live with this for six months if you knew it was mine?" he asked finally. I stopped for a moment and considered his logic. Could I get through the next six months knowing Pixie's kid was his? Could I manage being around him…and possibly her…knowing that they were one big ole family?

"No," I said finally.

"Then we wait until it's born. I can't risk having you shoot a pregnant woman—even _I_ can't do that, though I'd really like to," he said.

"I think you should. It would be more in character for you to just knock her off---oh wait, you already did that," I shot at him.

"Ouch," he replied, grimacing. "It's not that I'm…afraid to…kill her. It just wouldn't sit well…with me…if I did, now,"

"Well, I have no problem doing so. I wait until she's about to deliver—I shoot her and perform an emergency c-section. No big deal," I responded flatly. He shook his head.

"Tempting, but no,"

"You do realize that she's going to fuck you over again, right? If she did it once, she'll do it again. She'll probably end up fucking me over in the process. I won't let that happen—I'll kill her. I have no problem getting her out of the game," I explained.

"Like I said—we have six months to work with that gun. I trust you'll…do the…right…thing, when the time comes," he responded, widening his eyes in suggestion. I understood. He did want me to kill her. I just don't think he wanted me to tell him when it was going to happen. I could understand that—I could understand that for anyone else…except the Joker. Was he going soft or what?! I didn't like this new "save the pregnant Pixie" attitude. I just couldn't see why he was all "don't kill her!". Was he still in love with her? He had to be. He had to be in love with her because I told me he had been in love before—I knew it was with her. They were engaged for Christ's sake! All I could do was make him dizzy. Ugh, I really was beginning to hate this. I wanted the Joker back—the Joker I had met before—the Joker who would kill anyone. Maybe he would kill you, maybe he wouldn't. You could never really tell with him, and I liked that.

"I know…I know…what you're thinking, and you're right," he said finally. I glared at him hard. _What_ exactly was I right about.

"I…need to get out of here—there's too much time for me to think…here. I need…my knife. Do you have it? I…I want my knife," he spoke again. I tilted my head curiously as I observed him. He was tapping his hands and then he was glancing all around the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I had just noticed the entire time he wasn't entirely looking directly at me. The meds. I knew it.

"You took the meds today, didn't you," I spoke softly.

"I…I had to. She was waiting for me to…swallow," he stuttered. This wasn't like him at all. I hated it. At least they were wearing off. He was due for another round at 5:00. I would tell they were wearing off.

"I'm not going to give you anymore meds. I'm going to get you out of here," I stated finally. He glanced over at me through his half painted eyes.

"They are planning on discharging you. I'm going to discharge you myself today. There's nothing psychologically wrong with you," I explained, "There never was anything wrong with you. You obviously know that,"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"During my med pass, I'm going to let you out," I said softly. He leaned towards me and took my hands in his.

"Gggiadaaa, come…with me," he spoke just as quietly. I nodded my head.

"I will," I pursed my lips, "When I get off at 11—leave me a note where to find you,"

He grinned, "If…I had known…these drugs would…do this…I would have made…you…give them…to me," he giggled and stuttered. I shook my head at him.

"No good for you. I'd rather see you on cocaine. At least you'd try to seduce me," I muttered.

"You want…a….seduction? Better catch me on…heroine," he snickered.

"No! No more drugs! We're done, remember? It was that one time—and that's it," I scolded him.

"Right—but if you…change your mind…you know you can always ask…me," he responded, licking his lips.

"I don't see why I'd ever want to go back to that again," I stated flatly.

"It's a crazy world…we live in. I just do my…best to…get by," he licked his lips again and raised his eyebrows. I just stared at him in disbelief. He didn't really mean that. He didn't really want me to start doing drugs again. Oh God. Maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to do drugs now that Pixie was pregnant. No. I wouldn't let him.

"I'll see you at 11," I said anxiously as I stood to my feet.


	55. A Word of Caution

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55. A Word of Caution

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_Disclaimer: My immense love to all of you! Your words of praise are really more than I deserve. Thank you all so much. You'll never know how much it means to me!! Oh yeah…and I do not own DC comics or any of the characters and plotlines/places etc. they produced for Batman…You'll know of who I mean later on in the chapter! _

The evening dragged by slowly. I finished the rest of my evening med pass, completed several notes I had neglected from the prior evening, and found myself sitting idly back at my desk—alone in my office. I couldn't believe the Joker was talking to me about drugs. I was adamantly against doing drugs with him again. There was no way I'd get back into cocaine—even if it was something he wanted me to do. I was sure I was crazy, but I was also sure that I wasn't crazy enough to get back into drugs. At this point, I was alright with killing a pregnant woman, but I was never going to be okay with doing drugs again. Nothing I could think of would ever make me revert back to that lifestyle.

I huffed in my chair at the thought of cocaine. I didn't want to become a mess he won't want to clean up. That would be a tragedy. The Joker—left with two women—one pregnant and one on drugs. I was pretty sure if that happened, he'd probably kill either Pixie and me or just himself. I smiled at the thought of him killing Pixie. It was just a matter of time before my fantasy would become reality. I knew it would happen by either my hand or his, and when it did happen, I would be the happiest woman alive.

I glanced up at the clock. It was nearly 11:00. I packed my things and logged off my computer. I locked and shut my office door and sought out the 11—7 NP taking over. We exchanged notes and information in approximately fifteen minutes and before I knew it, I was out the door. A strange surge of freedom overtook my senses as I walked down the street towards the subway station. At the corner stood a man, seemingly ready to talk to me. The Joker, I assumed. My heart jumped at his promptness. The man sauntered over towards me, remaining out of the light. Curious, I approached him, smiling as I walked. Yet, as I got closer, my smile faded. The man was very clearly not the Joker. My heart raced inside my chest as he continued pursuing me. This man was very, very, clearly not the Joker! How could I have mistaken the man who now approached me for my beloved, purple suit wearing Joker?! The man who approached me wasn't wearing anything remotely close to the color purple. He was clad in black and wore a top hat. Odd. He was also closer to my height than the Joker's. He probably soared no higher than 5'6". I froze in my tracks, afraid to move even a tiny step closer to the man.

"Ms. Giada DiMarco?" the man's voice asked in his strange accent, as he stood before me finally. I nodded my head, unsure if I should confirm myself to him.

"Allow me to introduce myself to you—I'm…an acquaintance of Bruce Wayne. My name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot," he paused, waiting to see if his name rang a bell in my head. I remained silent, unsure of who this strange, short, obese man was. I was still beating myself up in my head for mistaking him for the Joker. The Joker belonged in a playgirl magazine compared to this guy.

"Um, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cobblepot," I spoke finally, holding out my hand for him to shake it. If he said he knew Bruce, I felt like I should at least pretend to believe him. I didn't think Bruce would send such a strange man to greet me, but I decided to play along—humor him, of the sorts.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss," he said, as his lips curled up behind his long pointy nose in an awkward smile. I hesitantly smiled back. I glanced at his hat and decided to break the ice.

"Nice hat—but you missed Halloween by a month or so," I chuckled, trying to make it seem friendly.

"Yes…the hat. Sorry, I know it's quite outdated, but I do prefer to keep a relatively…professional air about me. I run a nightclub, you know—the Iceberg Lounge," he stated hotly. I raised an eyebrow. This guy wore the hat for real? Why hadn't Bruce mentioned this clown to me before?! This was a little odd. I glanced down at my watch anxiously. It was well past 11. The Joker was waiting for me. I couldn't leave him waiting for me for too long—he would undoubtedly try to find me, and who could guess what that would do for his discharge this evening.

"Oh, the Iceberg—I've heard of it—never been though. I'm more familiar with the Joker's Wild," I stated.

"Oh, well that's too bad. But, Bruce asked me to ask you if you would meet him at the Iceberg…" Mr. Cobblepot began.

"I really can't—I'm actually late meeting someone this evening. See, I work at Arkham and I just got off work. I was supposed to be somewhere at 11. Please, give my regards to Bruce if you see him this evening," I said as I turned to leave. Mr. Cobblepot then took a slight hold of my wrist. I spun around, shocked at his forwardness.

"Pardon me, Miss, but Bruce did state it was urgent. He was afraid you'd be meeting with…someone…after work this evening. No doubt, I can imagine…who…this person is, but my guess is as good as his, I suppose!" he chuckled. I simply stared at him in disbelief. I couldn't believe this was happening. Was Bruce for real? Was this guy for real? I was so confused. Maybe I should call Bruce…

I took my phone from my pocket and dialed Bruce's cell number.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Bruce, it's Giada. Are you expecting me?" I asked him slowly, eyeing Mr. Cobblepot.

"Yes—did…Mr. Cobblepot…find you?" he asked hestitantly.

"You should have warned me! I had no idea you needed to see me so urgently. Why couldn't you just call me? Are you still at the…the Iceberg Lounge?" I asked, my hands beginning to tremble.

"Yes—I'm here. I just need to make sure you go straight home this evening—you know what I mean," he spoke firmly. Did he know I was going to see the Joker?! How could he have known?! The discharge must have been made public—or at least aware with the GPD and Bruce/Batman.

"Bruce, I have plans this evening. Just a quick meeting and I'll be heading right home. I don't have any time to meet with you…" my voice trailed off and my arm slid down to my side; I could hear Bruce yelling to me from the cell phone, but I couldn't bring myself to put the phone up to my ear. I was pretty sure my mouth was gaping so widely, I could have been at the dentist. The Joker was standing off in the distance motioning for me to hurry up my conversation with Mr. Cobblepot. He had Pixie under his arm—and she was very much pregnant.

I hadn't anticipated this by any means. I knew she was pregnant—but I hadn't seen it yet. There she was—her perfect body now perfectly pregnant. I slowly raised my hand to my face.

"Bruce, I have to go. Love you," I slid my phone shut and slipped it into my pocket. "Thank you for the message, Mr. Cobblepot. Surely we'll meet again—hopefully at you…uh…lovely club," I pardoned myself slowly and walked away from the man tipping his hat to me, towards the Joker and pregger Pixie.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed at them once we were safely hidden by a nearby dark alley.

"The better question is what are _you_ doing?! Do you even know who that is?!" Pixie hissed back at me. I shot her a glare of death.

"Excuse me, I wasn't talking to _you_—I didn't have plans to meet with _you_ at 11!" I snapped back at her quietly as I shot the Joker a look of death.

"I can explain…" the Joker said finally, holding up his hands and taking the peeling knife from his other hand and placing it into his pocket. I didn't even notice he had the knife up to her face. I smiled briefly and then glared back at Pixie.

"Oh you better! I didn't sign up for this," I spat back at him and gesturing to Pixie with my eyes.

"First of all—I was unaware you were friends with the…the Penguin…over there," he gestured to the corner where I had been conversing with Mr. Cobblepot.

"The Penguin? Oh be nice, please! Just because that man looks like a bird doesn't mean you can go calling him a penguin—which is a very cute bird, by the way—and he was very…not…" I hesitated in my assessment as I noticed Pixie and the Joker just staring at me.

"You finished?" Pixie snapped.

"Oh shut the hell up!" I snapped right back at her.

"Right—so…secondly, I wasn't planning on…this…either," he gestured to her with his peeler, releasing her from his strong grasp.

"Thanks—so I don't even have a name—I'm just some androgynous…thing," Pixie huffed.

"That's right," I smiled over at her and then glanced back at the Joker.

"I was walking to your…apartment and I stumbled…upon…" he gestured to Pixie, not even bothering to say her name, "and…she was wandering, and she spotted me and said she was in pain. Well, I told her if she came any closer, I'd show her what real pain is…but then she pointed to her stomach," The Joker explained.

"Oh, so you're the concerned daddy, huh," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Not exactly," he said as he licked his lips, "see, I was hoping you could…help—"

"Help who?! _Her?!_" I laughed at the concept. The Joker came to me, asking if I could help Pixie through her pregnancy. "You've got to be joking, right? It's a bad joke!"

"Giada, hear me out here," the Joker continued, taking a step toward me.

"Oh no—I think I've heard plenty! This is outrageous—completely out of my realm of…I just don't care if the bitch is in pain! And besides, OB/GYN isn't exactly my specialty," I paused at the situation. The Joker was asking me to help out the pregnant Pixie, most likely through the remainder of her pregnancy—for the next six months, doing OB/GYN check ups—something I was not entirely very good at, since my specialty was psych. I glanced up at him and he caught my eyes with his. He stared hard at me, trying to penetrate my mind with his thoughts.

"I know it's not your…specialty—but you are a nurse practitioner," the Joker stated slowly. I got it. I understood his motive. He didn't want to help Pixie. He wanted me to torture her with exams. A smile curled up on my lips. I turned towards Pixie and smiled at her.

"Oh, Pixie—you're going to be just fine," I spoke to her finally.

"Oh thank God," she huffed as she doubled over in pain. She didn't have a clue that I wasn't very good at GYN exams.

"Let's go back to your place so we can have a look at what's going on," I stated as I placed my arm around her and helped her walk. I glared over at the Joker who simply flashed me a conniving grin.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Jesus, Jade! This thing inside keeps kicking me!" Pixie exclaimed as she remained on her back on her bed.

"You're an idiot. You're almost four months pregnant—nothing should be kicking you yet. And when it does, I'm going to hope it kicks you a lot harder than this," I responded flatly as I actually did a proper exam on her.

"Well, I don't know why it's kicking me," she responded. I felt her small but pregnant stomach. She was just beginning to show. There was no way the baby inside of her was kicking her. I looked up at her face and noticed something strange with her eyes. I removed my rubber gloves and moved up closer to her head.

"Joker—what's she doing?!" Pixie screamed suddenly.

"Hold still, I want to see something," I held her head firmly in my hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried turning her head away from me. I removed one of my hands and pried her eye open. Her pupils were drastically dilated. She was high on drugs. What a bitch! Doing drugs while pregnant—it couldn't get much worse than is—except maybe if she was drinking too. No doubt her kid would pop out with fetal alcohol syndrome. I forcefully removed my hands from her head and walked away from the bed.

"Where are you going, Jade?" she coaxed, "Am I too much for you to handle?"

I paused and took in a deep breath. I glared at the Joker and then slowly turned so that I could face her again.

"Pixie, I can handle you just fine. What I will not tolerate is a pregnant woman who is high on God knows what drug! Do you want your kid to be born with abnormalities? Because I'll tell you what right now, if you continue with this drug use for the duration of the pregnancy, you're going to not only harm the baby, but yo…urself," I made myself say it. As much as I hated her, I didn't her to harm herself. _I_ wanted to be the one harming her.

"What could happen to me?" she asked. The selfish bitch! Not 'what could happen to the baby?' or 'could it die?', but 'what about me?'. The idea of it made me almost gag.

"Give me your arm," I instructed firmly.

"No," she refused, pulling her arms into her chest.

"Bitch, give me your arm!" I shouted as I lunged at her and grabbed her arm. I was stronger than her, for some reason I hadn't anticipated this, and I was able to unfold her left arm. Just as I had suspected, needle marks decorated her inner arm.

"Heroine," I spat at her and then turned away as I began my explanation, "will cause the most deficits among newborns and fetuses in the womb. The child will probably be born prematurely. The use of illicit drugs during pregnancy also assist in the unborn child getting an infection, like…as sexually transmitted infection or AIDS," I stated.

Pixie paused, awed and in silence, at this information. She glanced up at the Joker, who remained silent in the room while I conducted my "treatment".

"But…what about _me_?" she urged again.

"Well," I began through clenched teeth, "since you seem to be an avid heroine and cocaine user, you must typically have elevated blood pressure—which puts you at a risk for developing pre-eclampsia,"

Her eyes widened as she sat up on the bed, "Oh no! What's that?!" she shrieked.

I rolled my eyes, "Basically, pregnancy induced hypertension. It usually shows up later in pregnancy and can be determined if we monitor the amount of protein in your urine," I explained.

"Oh, you'll have to do that for me then. I can't risk getting that," she stated as she laid herself back down.

I licked my lips and then pursed them together. I took in a deep breath and glanced over at the Joker, "I don't have to do anything for you, actually. And the fact you're more concerned about yourself during this pregnancy and not the healthy development of the innocent life inside of you is absolutely disgusting. In fact, I have the right mind not to help you at all, but I'm not that kind of person. I'm not an asshole—I'll help you through this pregnancy, but I won't be telling you what to do and what not to do. This is your thing, okay? If you wanna shoot up heroine, or if you wanna smoke crack or snort some cocaine, that's your decision. But I'm telling you right now, as long as I know you're doing drugs, I won't be testing your urine for excessive protein and if you _do_ develop pre-eclampsia, I won't help you,"

The room was silent. She just nodded her head. I think she was unsure of how to respond. Either that, or she was coming down from her high. I hoped for the first, but assumed it was the latter. She didn't seem like the type to give two shits about her illicit drug use and being pregnant. She only cared for her own well-being. In that case, she knew my terms. I would hold firmly to them, and I think this pleased the Joker. I think he knew she wouldn't quit the drugs, which would in turn, torture her in the sense that I wouldn't help her in the way she wanted. It was the perfect way for me to torture her without actually hurting her. I wasn't all that satisfied with the idea of hurting her while she was already in the pains of pregnancy—but I was still willing to kill her if it came to that. I came pretty close this evening with her bout of selfishness on display. No child deserved a mother like that.


	56. A Blast from the Past

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56. A Blast from the Past

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_Disclaimer: There is some alcohol use in this chapter—so beware! I am not promoting alcohol use unless you are of age! Haha jk! Be safe…I love you all!!! Also, there is a 10 Things I hate About You moment that Giada has. I just love the moment in the movie where Julia Styles dances on the table at the party to Notorious BIG. I do not own this moment! _

The Joker and I walked through the quiet streets of Gotham. Not many people were out at 2:30 in the morning on what would be the day after Christmas Day. The silence of the city was only further magnified by the lack of conversation between the Joker and me. We strolled down the street, neither one of us willing to say the first word of a sentence. I was not in the best of moods—in fact, I was rather pissed off at the Joker for putting me in that situation with Pixie, even though it wasn't for the betterment of her. It pleased me he had the right kind of intentions, but it was nothing something I wished to pursue, but now had to. I think he was afraid I would shoot him in the face with my 9mm if he spoke anything out of line. He saw that I was quiet angry—and everyone knows the best thing to do when with or around a pissed Sicilian is to just shut the hell up. You will get shot.

"I'm heading this way," I said finally, breaking the silence as I turned to face him. I pointed to the direction I was headed—the way back to my apartment. He pursed his lips and then released a sigh through his nose.

"I knew you would do that," he said finally.

"Well did you really expect me to want to spend the night with you after making me deal with _that_?!" I asked, gesturing to the direction we had walked from. He just shook his head and grinned.

"You just wait Giada—when all else seems like it can't get any worse, I assure you it will. Misery loves company—remember that. I didn't ask you to be…nice…to her—but you did anyway. I knew you would. Something about you…you're too generous of a healthcare practitioner. But I know you won't always uphold your…policies. When it all drops, you'll end up breaking all your rules, because as we both know—the only sensible way to live in this world is without rules," the Joker stated.

"Yeah—I recall you telling me that. And I assure _you_, if she pushes me far enough, I _will_ kill her," I snapped back at him and turned to leave.

"Fair enough—I have no jurisdiction!" he called after me. I simply kept walking, ignoring his comment. I was absolutely livid. I couldn't even comprehend what I had just done for Pixie—my own archnemesis! I hated her and there I was—_helping_ her. I wanted to puke.

I made it back to my apartment by 3:00. I slammed my door shut, stripped my clothes from my body and climbed into bed. I fell immediately into a deep sleep, complete with two full cycles of REM. I would have been glad for this, but my dream sequence was hardly something I wanted to remember when I woke the following morning.

I was in Pixie's apartment tending to her every need. She was lying in her bed, doped up on drugs and the Joker was sitting by her head stroking her hair to comfort her. In the second dream, the Joker showed me a tattoo he had just gotten—it was Pixie's name boldly printed on his upper arm. He told me it was so that she would leave us alone when the baby was born. I was confused by his logic and decided to just snort a line of cocaine.

I sat up in bed and gagged. I cursed my REM—how dare it plague me with such detesting dreams! I never knew my psyche was capable of such filth. Disgusted with myself, I jumped out of bed and ran immediately into the bathroom and hopped into the shower.

As I emerged from the bathroom, the phone in my apartment started ringing. I made my way into the kitchen and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Giada, it's Bruce,"

I smiled at the sound of his voice. He was just what I needed after the sour evening I had been through.

"Hey Bruce, what's up?" I asked, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I wandered back into my bedroom.

"I was calling to see if you'd like to join me this evening at the Iceberg Lounge," Bruce invited me. He sounded eager to take me out. Odd.

"Well, seeing as how I have no plans, that sounds good to me. Hey! Isn't that the place owned by Mr. Cobblepot?" I asked, interested in what he had to say about this man.

"Yes, it would be. I'm sorry for that last night. I just wasn't really sure what to do and Oswald was there and happened to offer his greeting services to me. I kind of had to oblige. I hope you understand," Bruce explained.

"Oh, I see. Nah, it's okay! He seemed friendly enough," I replied, struggling to keep my balance as I shoved one leg at a time into my jeans.

"Well, I'll explain to you later on why it's important for us to be present at the Iceberg," Bruce stated finally.

"Why can't you tell me now? I'm not busy—I've got the time,"

"I'd rather do it in person," he said. We were silent for a moment before I replied.

"Okay. What time do you want me to meet you?" I asked.

"Is 10:00 too late?" Bruce asked.

"Nope. I don't have work tomorrow—it's Saturday," I replied. "Is anyone else going to be there we know?"

"I'm sure you'll recognize a few people. Maybe even your Joker will be there," Bruce responded.

"The Joker? At a nightclub?" I laughed, "Dubious,"

"We'll see," Bruce chuckled.

"Okay. Well, I'll see you at 10 then," I said.

"Right. See you then,"

"Bye"

"Bye"

I hung up the phone and finished getting dressed. That was quite the interesting conversation. I just couldn't see why Bruce would have a reason for us to attend the Iceberg Lounge. I also couldn't picture the Joker being in a nightclub—dancing? Hardly! And I wondered who else would be there that I might know…according to Bruce. It was all so strange. It didn't sound like a normal situation—but then again, for me, what _was_ normal in Gotham?!

I dried my hair and put on some makeup and decided to lounge around my apartment. It was nice not having anything to do. Around 2:30 I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and decided to watch a really long movie to waste time.

"Hm, I think I'll watch you," I pulled Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring from my DVD collection and popped it into the DVD player. I sat down under the blanket on my couch and watched the extended edition for the next four and half hours.

At 7:00, the movie ended and I was in tears. I always hated how first movie ended—I guess it was more that I never wanted it to end—I never wanted the fellowship to break up. I wiped the idiotic tears from my eyes and put the DVD away back on the shelf. Aside from being fantastic movies, they were a great way to pass the time—especially the extended versions, which I had all three.

I wandered into the kitchen and placed a pot of water on the stove to boil. It was dinner time—Italian style. As I gathered my ingredients for my quick marinara, I felt a pang of sadness. I missed the Joker. It took me back to the night he invited himself into my apartment and ate dinner with me. It was the first night he and I spent together. I remembered we had quite the psychological debate. Of course we got nowhere because we are basically able to reach each other's minds. I frowned. I wished he would walk through the door and join me for dinner. He probably figured I was still pissed at him—which I mostly was—but I missed him. Of course I still loved him. I just wished he would kill Pixie with me rather than trying to protect her. Nothing could be worse than him trying to make sure she was okay—and by using me to make sure of this!

I angrily chopped my vegetables and shoved them all into a pot on the stove. I plopped the tomatoes into the pot, garlic, basil and two bay leaves.

About an hour later, I ate dinner. Time was slowly ticking away. In no time, it would be 10 and I would be with Bruce at the Iceberg Lounge—hopefully having questions answered. Hopefully, I would be having a good time and enjoying myself for once. It felt like lately, I was just getting continually shit on! I was surprised I was in such a chipper mood considering all the crap I had been putting up with this holiday season. Well, I guess when we're down at the bottom, the only way to go is up.

I finished my dinner, cleaned up and made my way into my bedroom to ready myself for the nightclub. I couldn't remember the last time I had gone to a club—one that I wasn't dancing in—for fun with friends. It had to have been college! I decided I would go all out and wear some tight jeans and a black shirt that tied around my neck. It was fitted, but flowed loosely in the front and had a dark pink studded brooch in front where the ties joined to the shirt. I then threw on some black heels, fixed my makeup and sprayed a little perfume at my wrists. I threw on my coat and placed my license and credit card into my pocket. There was no way I'd be taking my purse into a club.

At exactly 10:02 pm, I walked into the Iceberg Lounge nightclub. Goldfrapp's "Lovely 2 C U" was blaring. The bass pounded strongly in my chest as I walked through the coat room and checked in my coat. The club was darkly lit by several purple, blue and green lights that coated the dance floor and surrounding lounge tables and chairs. I spotted Bruce sitting at a table in a corner by the dance floor. He stood up and waved as we caught each other's eyes. I briskly made my way over to him.

"Lovely to see you, Bruce," I sang along with the music as I hugged him. He chuckled and then sat down. I followed his lead and took my seat across the table. A single electric candle was at the center of the table, giving off a slight illumination. I like the ambiance it gave the club.

"So, how do you like this place?" Bruce asked, leaning close to me over the table.

"It's nice! I like the ambiance!" I shouted over the loud music. He smiled and sat back in his chair.

"You look nice this evening too!" he shouted back with a laugh. We both chuckled at how we had to hold a conversation, but then Bruce took his chair and set it beside mine.

"So, Giada, if you look over there, you'll see Oswald," Bruce pointed out as he spoke closely to my ear so we did not need to shout. I nodded my head and glanced in the direction he gestured discretely.

"How long has he owned this place?" I asked.

"A while now. See, Giada—Oswald isn't…your average billionaire," Bruce stated.

"He's a billionaire? Like you?" I asked, smirking.

"Yes—but not in the same sense that I am one—he's no philanthropist, Giada. He's, well, the Penguin,"

"What is it with you people being so rude to that poor man?! He can't help he has a pointy nose!" I exclaimed.

"No, Giada—that's his name—his other alias, if you will. Just as I am Batman, he's the Penguin," Bruce explained more quietly.

"Oh Jesus—so he's…a…a…bad guy?" I asked, my voice hushed. Britney Spears' "Gimme More" filled the club loudly. I had nothing to worry about.

"Yes—but even more, this place is where most of Gotham's criminals hang out. It's the perfect place for me to be so that I can…explore their plans—their courses of action, rather," Bruce explained.

"Oh wow—I had no idea! And you said the Joker comes here too?" I asked, looking around to see if I saw his purple jacket and painted face milling about.

"Yes—he's been here. Not recently though—he hasn't been here in probably a couple of weeks, but I'm anticipating him on showing up relatively soon. See, with a few other criminals out of Arkham, he's pretty much back on the map,"

"Why? Who else is gone?" I asked, my eyes searching the crowd.

"Well, of course Maroni is back on the streets—but I'm surprised you haven't noticed Edward Nygma's been gone from the asylum. He escaped, courtesy of the Joker a few days ago," Bruce explained.

"Oh—well he was changed from my caseload to Dr. Gerard's—but that's nuts! I had no idea! I feel like a bad therapist now! So, he goes by…the Riddler, right?" I asked.

"Yes. And of course, the Joker will be conning up something with Maroni and his men—no doubt in another attempt at taking over Gotham," Bruce continued saying.

"Well, do you think it's possible for us to just have a good time tonight, and not pay attention to the criminals gathered here?" I asked, "I mean, not many of them will recognize me without my face paint on as Jade—and the Riddler doesn't even know I have the second alias as Jade," I explained.

"Sure. Want to dance?" Bruce asked as he stood to his feet. I smiled and stood up next to him.

"You bet!" I exclaimed as I led Bruce out onto the dance floor. Timbaland's "The Way I Are" just started playing and I was absolutely in love with that song. Bruce and I danced, platonically, to the song. It was a blast. I sang along, belting the words loudly over the music as we danced. I was glad Bruce was a good dancer. I could never imagine being in this kind of situation with the Joker. Dancing with Bruce brought me back to the days when I was in college and my friends and I would have dance parties over winter break. We would just get drunk and dance and have a great time. I think Bruce caught on to the same idea I had and led me over to the bar.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Tequila shot! One for me and one for you!" I exclaimed excitedly. Bruce grimaced at the idea of shooting tequila, but ordered them regardless. We licked our hands, poured the salt on the wet part and took the tequila in our hands.

"Okay, on the count of three," I instructed, holding the lime in my salted hand.

"Okay. A toast, first though!" Bruce suggested.

"Alright—you make it though—I'm terrible at making toasts," I laughed.

"Okay, okay. Here's to us having a great time tonight and just letting go of all the stresses we've been encountering in our lives lately—we deserve it," Bruce raised his glass to mine and clanked it. I nodded my head with a smile, licked the salt, took the shot and then sucked on the lime. Bruce and I both puckered our faces at shock of the tequila. Laughing, he then ordered us another round of shots. We took the second one quicker and it hurt a lot less. Giggling like little school girls, we made our way onto the crowded dance floor. We danced to the next couple of songs, until I decided it was necessary for us to have one more shot of tequila. I dragged Bruce over to the bar and ordered us another round of shots. Bruce grimaced at the thought of having to shoot another tequila shot, but he bucked up and did it like Batman. Ha! I loved that I was drinking with the Bat!

When the clock struck midnight, Bruce and I were on the dance floor, five shots each in, and sweating like we had been dancing for hours—which we had been. The clubs spun about me as the lights decorated the walls and ceiling and people with their dim glow.

Little to my knowledge, at precisely 12:34, the Joker entered the Iceberg Lounge. The club was much more crowded than it had been when Bruce and I arrived two and half hours ago, but it was still easy to spot people. Bruce and I were out on the dance floor dancing up a storm to all kinds of crazy music. But I was having a 90s moment—I needed to hear some songs of my childhood.

"Bruce! Will you request a song for me?" I shouted drunkenly to him.

"Sure! What song?" he slurred.

"Hypnotize—by Notorious B.I.G!" I shouted back. Bruce nodded and headed for the DJ. In just a moment, he returned to me smiling. I knew it would play at any moment. I had to hear it—it took me back to high school.

Just as I suspected, in moments, the song began. I screamed in excitement and jumped up onto the nearest platform so that I was high above the rest of the dance floor. I danced solo on top of the platform while people from the dance floor started gathering around me and cheered me on to keep dancing.

The Joker, passing through the coat room heard the crowed cheering and cast his gaze at me up on the platform dancing solo to the song. A grin crossed his lips as he meandered through the crowed to get a closer look at me. I was clearly, highly intoxicated, and this only further amused him. He remained at the back of the club, as close as he could get without being too noticeable, with his arms folded across his chest. The grin on his face turned into a broad smile as I finished my platform dance and hopped off the table and started dancing with Bruce. We grinded close, the way we all used to dance back in high school to this song. The Joker's smile faded, as he noticed who I was dancing with—Bruce Wayne. His eyes darted through the crowd, looking for any others he recognized, a sad attempt at removing his eyes from my dirty dancing with Bruce. And yet, his eyes kept coming back to Bruce and me dancing. He licked his lips and then pursed them, averting his eyes once more.

The music changed and Bruce and I decided to take a break from dancing. He led me back to our table, which happened to be near where the Joker stood. However, I never saw him, because he removed himself from my line of sight before we returned to the table. He removed himself from the club entirely. In that moment, he wished he could be like Bruce Wayne—dancing with me. He wished he could be like Bruce Wayne—with me, dancing, not wearing his face paint, not wearing the purple suit. He pursed his lips tightly as he thought through the situation. I had two aliases—but he did not. He was simply, the Joker. But with me, sometimes he would slip into his old alias—the one he was before he became the Joker. He was perfectly satisfied with the man he had become as the Joker—but for some reason, he was jealous of Bruce Wayne and his normal, good looking appearance. Maybe he felt threatened. Maybe he wished he could look like Bruce Wayne. But to me, he was just as handsome as Bruce Wayne—with or without the makeup.

For reasons he could not explain, the Joker went back to his apartment, and transformed himself for the first time in years—he transformed himself into the man he was before the war. He rinsed the green from his hair he had just applied that same evening, revealing his true, light brown hair. He washed the paint from his face entirely and dressed himself in clothing he had hidden deep within the confines of his dresser. He couldn't remember the last time he wore the dark blue, form fitting jeans hidden at the bottom of his dresser. They felt alien as they clung snugly to him. He wore a gray wife beater underneath a blue button down shirt that he left open at the top. The shirt was tucked into the jeans that he wore with a black belt. Finally, over the shirt, he wore a maroon jacket.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed just how long his hair had gotten. It was at his shoulders. Just as it had been when he was back in high school. Ironic that he should want to revert to this style tonight when he noticed his hair's length. He shrugged and left the apartment.

The Joker arrived back at the club at around 1:00. Bruce and I were dancing again among the many other club goers and criminals. It was such an odd experience to be having such a great time amongst great criminal minds. I guess it have to be something I got used to for Bruce's sake.

The Joker saw us dancing and he immediately had a surge of confidence. He made his way through the crowd. Not one person recognized him. He tapped me on the shoulder and Bruce's eyes averted to the man standing behind me. I don't know what Bruce was thinking, but his face went blank. I think he was searching for a memory of the face, but he couldn't find one.

"Dance with me," the voice said from behind me. I turned around and saw the Joker standing behind me. My heart stopped. I almost didn't recognize his voice. It was softer—lower. If it weren't for the fact I had memorized his eyes, I would have never known it was him. Bruce grinned at me and headed back to the table. I turned back towards the Joker and smiled drunkenly up at him. A new song began, Timbaland's "Scream". It was perfect. The Joker wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to him. Our bodies fit tightly together as he moved his hips in time to the rhythm of the music. I was completely shocked at what a sexy dancer he was! I would have never pinned him for it.

"I think you forget that I was in high school when you were," he whispered into my ear. He knew I was in awe at his dancing skills, "because I too danced to Notorious B.I.G"

I looked up at him and laughed. It felt so normal to be dancing with him like this. It felt so normal to have his pressed up to me this close. It felt normal to have our legs between one another's as we danced—we fit perfectly together. He held his head close to mine as we dance. It felt so normal—like we were at some high school dance or party or something—years ago, before either of us knew anything about the world of crime. I felt like Pixie must have when she was dating him back in high school. I felt like I finally was able to have something she had—a moment with the Joker as the man he was so many years ago—something she had known so well before he went off to war. I had always known him as the Joker—and I knew him so well as the Joker. I loved him—was absolutely infatuated by him as the Joker. But tonight was so different and it felt normal. It felt right. It felt like we weren't criminals—like we didn't kill people—like Pixie didn't exist—like we would leave this party at 2:00 and he would take me home in his car and kiss me good-night before letting me sneak in before my parents knew I was awake that late. I felt giddy inside—like I hadn't felt in years.

When the song ended, he held on to me for another moment longer, and then finally let me go. We smiled at each other.

"I'll let you get back to your…date with Mr. Wayne," he snickered. I rolled my eyes at him.

"It's not a date—Bruce is my best friend," I explained, "Oh, you didn't really know that, did you?"

"I do now," he retorted with a small grin. I returned his grin, careful not to give away the fact that Bruce is also Batman. He turned away from me and headed out of the crowd. I chased after him and spun him around.

"Where are you going?!" I shouted at him over the music.

"Back to my apartment. I did what I came for—we danced. I proved to you I can dance," he giggled.

"Well, you certainly surprised me. You look…really hot," I laughed as I ran my fingers through his curly hair and then down his shoulder and arm. "Not to say that you're not hot…as you…but this is just…different. I like it. It makes me feel like I'm in high school with you or something,"

"That would be the point. Very good, Giada!" he clapped his hands together.

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes as he peered off into the distance at the back of the club. I turned to face the direction he was studying.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to see what he was looking at. Suddenly, I saw Bruce, sitting at our table with a gorgeous blonde woman.

"Looks like Bruce Wayne found…someone else to talk to," he said, unsure of who Bruce was talking to.

"Who is it? Do you know her? Does she come here often?" I asked, eager to know who Bruce was talking.

He shook his head and placed his arm around me, "Better come with me," he said finally.

"Do you know her?" I repeated myself.

"Let's get out of here, Giada. You had fun tonight, right?" the Joker asked, peering down at me as he led me out of the club.

"Yes, I had a blast," I smiled back at him.

"Let's…leave it at that, then," the Joker replied.


	57. A Modification

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57. A Modification

~*~*~

_Disclaimer: Sorry it has taken me so long to update! School's started getting a bit heavy on the reading and homework! I'll do my best to update ASAP for the rest of the semester, but please do not hate me it the updates become less and less frequent. I promise you all I will keep writing and updating, it just may not be all too frequent (sad face) Also, I am using "Kay's" idea/review regarding the Joker's hair—thank you for that! Thank you all for your suggestions and guesses as to what's going on!! I love it! I may take some of your suggestions. If I do, you'll know! (Love Jacq's idea of having Pixie's baby's father be Penguin. Made me laugh out loud when I read that review! Hahaha!) My love to you all!_

I followed the Joker out of the Iceberg Lounge and into the streets. I turned around and realized that no one had noticed the Joker leaving the club—in fact, no one had noticed he had been there at all. This perplexed me, but then I realized it had to have been because of his makeup—or lack-thereof. I guess he even had me surprised by his appearance at first, but once I knew it was him, it was just so obvious. How could no one notice the scars? I guess I hadn't, at first. I knew it was him because of his eyes—his deep brown eyes. They were so dark and penetrating that no other pair of eyes could even compare. Only his eyes had the ability to stare deep into mine and understand my very existence.

His hand wrapped itself gently about my wrist as we walked the streets of Gotham. It was a different sensation—walking with the Joker in open streets. I glanced over at him, wondering if we'd take the alley ways back to his apartment or mine, but he made no effort to be hidden. We just kept walking in silence through the streets. People passed us as we walked and didn't look twice. It wasn't until the police cruiser passed us and didn't flash its lights that I realized why the Joker took the long, revealing way home. I smiled at him and he glanced down at me.

"Why so smiley?" he asked, twisting his usual question along with a twisted smile on his face.

"Because we're walking openly down the streets—no one knows who you are. You like that, don't you?" I asked, still smiling at him.

"It's…different," he smirked back at me.

"No, really—talk to me! You like it—because if you didn't you wouldn't be smiling. You wouldn't have done it—you wouldn't be making an effort to take the long way home," I urged him. He rolled his eyes at me, licked his lips and then sighed.

"You know…when I saw you with Bruce Wayne tonight…I just, _had_ to," he replied, pausing mid-stride. I paused and turned towards him. His eyes were averted, glancing off into the street, seemingly avoiding mine.

"You _had_ to?" I asked, confused, but slightly pleased at his response. My lips curled into a grin at the corner of my mouth.

"I could have gone in there and danced with you…as me—but, I thought…no, no…no, this would be much more fun—for the both of us," he responded, licking his lips. I nodded my head and followed him as he continued walking. I waited a while before responding to him.

"Well, you were right—it was fun—and different," I spoke finally. He glanced over at me and smirked.

"I…would like to go there again with you, Giada," the Joker said finally, moments later.

"That would be fun," I agreed, smiling and nodding my head. We had stopped walking. I glanced around me and realized we were outside of my apartment. I looked over at the Joker and saw him just standing there, somewhat awkwardly.

"Do you want to come inside?" I asked, swallowing the spit that had built up in my mouth for anxiety. I always got nervous at the end of a Joker event. I was never sure what he was going to do—would he leave—would he invited me back to his place—would he come inside and spend the night? I never could be sure.

"I…I'd like that," he responded, licking his lips. I simply smiled and led the way into my building. My heart pounded inside my chest as we ascended to the top floor in the elevator. We just remained in silence until the door opened up to my floor. I led the way to my apartment door, each step feeling like I was eons from the door, which was only right down the hall.

Within moments, we were inside my apartment. I flipped on the lights and kicked off my heels. My feet were absolutely throbbing. It had been ages since I'd worn heels with that kind of height. I dropped down onto the couch and eyed the Joker as he made his way to the familiar couch. I realized in that moment that it was his first time back in my apartment in two years. It must have been a weird feeling for him. He haphazardly sat beside me and put his feet up on the coffee table. We sat in silence for a moment, until my racing mind came across a fond memory. A grin slid across my lips as I turned my head to face him.

"Want some punch?" I asked, still smiling. I hoped he remembered the name of his horrible alcoholic concoction of two years ago. Luckily, a familiar smile spread across his lips and he nodded.

"Oh yes—you make it well, Giada," he giggled. My heart raced as I jumped to my feet and made my way into the kitchen.

I was elated in that moment. I was soaked in my complete and utter affection for the Joker as he sat on my couch, anticipating my return. When I finished concocting his tasty beverage, I returned to the sofa and we drank our alcoholic beverages in antsy silence. When we finished, we were both tipsy, giggly, and ready to please one another. We scrambled to the bedroom and landed on the bed, eagerly undressing each other. Our night was filled with a variety of sex—lustful and void of emotion, and romantic.

It was a strange feeling waking up next to the Joker when he didn't appear like…the Joker. I hadn't noticed just how long his hair had become—and that it wasn't tinted green. I hoisted myself up onto my elbow as I continued admiring him in his sleep. A smile crept across my lips as I scanned his face—perfectly sculpted, including the scars. Fearful of falling into a bout of emotional mushiness, I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a nice hot shower and brushing of my teeth. As I washed my hair, I wondered what the Joker would do if I offered to cut his hair. He would probably stab me with the scissors, but it was worth a try. I mean, I did love his hair no matter how long it was, but he just didn't seem to resemble the man I fell in love with two years ago—when his hair was shorter, slightly green and wavy. Now it was just shoulder length, wavy and brown. I guess I had always known it was brown, and I had seen him and his brown hair before, but he was always quick to wash the green back into it. For some reason, last night he had decided to go more…non-Joker to the club, which was a nice surprise. I just wasn't sure as to why he did it. I never thought the Joker would have a want or need to be anything other than…the Joker.

Curious, I stepped out of the shower, towel dried my curly hair, brushed my teeth and went back into my bedroom. To my surprise, the Joker was sitting up in bed looking around the room.

"There you are! So glad you came back!" he exclaimed with a wild smile.

"Yeah, just took a shower—no harm done!" I responded as I searched through my drawers for some clothes.

"Of course," he replied with a grin. Still naked, he stood to his feet. For some reason, I couldn't remove my eyes from him. I was finally able to study his body in daylight—his beautifully carved body—untouched by blades of torture.

"A little modesty, please, Giada," he snickered as he saw my constant gaze on him as he searched the floor for his clothes. I blushed at his realization and went back to finding clothes of my own.

"Sorry about that," I muttered, embarrassed.

"Seriously?" he asked, walking up behind me. He pulled the towel from my hands and threw it to the floor. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing himself entirely against me. The sensation of his warm body flushed completely against mine was just thrilling. It sent shivers up and down my back. He leaned his head into my neck and kissed it up to me ear. His hair fell over my face and filled my nose with his strange scent that I was so oddly obsessed with. The Joker moved his hands up from my waist and cupped my breasts until I shivered again.

"You don't have a reason to be…sorry," he whispered finally into my ear and then removed himself from me. I turned around towards him and frowned. He was so warm and amazing—I wanted him that close to me forever. I decided in that moment that it was unacceptable for him to ever be less than 5 cm from me.

"You should do that more often," I suggested, then turned away from him and pulled on my underwear, bra and clothes.

The Joker just giggled at the thought and threw on his clothing from the night before. As he pulled on his crimson overcoat, I really noticed just how long his hair actually was. Again, he caught me staring at him. This time, I found I had even tilted my head in thought as to how I would begin cutting it—provided he let me.

"Giadaaaaa, you're staring again. Do we have a problem here? Hm?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips. I shook my head and then took in a deep breath.

"I have question—well, more of a proposition, really, for you," I stated nervously.

"Oh, what's the matter? You look nervous?" he asked in his coaxing Joker-way. I smirked at his question and let out a small laugh. Again, I shook my head.

"Well, maybe a little nervous—but only because it is a strange question/proposition thing," I briefed him.

"Well…?" he asked as he folded his arms across his chest and waited for my inquiry.

"Okay—well, I don't know if you've noticed or not…but your hair—"

"Isn't green. I'm aware," he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Um, not _quite_ what I was going for, but yes, it's not green—and by the way, may I ask you as to why you did that?" I asked, curious for his response.

"Did what? Dye it green or un-dye it green?" he asked, smirking wildly. He looked absolutely delicious in the way he coaxed me with his smile. He knew things I didn't know and it drove me mad!

"Why you…un-dyed it," I hesitated, unsure if 'un-dyed' was proper English or not.

"Because I wanted to look…different…for one night—well, different for me, anyway; like everyone else, for you," he explained, licking his lips.

"But why? I think you look amazing with green hair—and the purple suit and the makeup," I urged, trying to assure him I accepted him for him.

"Right—but last night, I saw you dancing with Bruce Wayne…and well…I just _had_ to be…_normal_ for you—for just that one night—at least," he explained, nearly clenching his teeth.

I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. I was pretty sure he had been jealous of Bruce, but I wouldn't admit that to him, especially if he wasn't willing to admit it aloud. I nodded my head and smiled.

"Well, thank you—I enjoyed it quite a bit," I replied, "but back to the first matter at hand,"

"Oh right," he grinned, I think relieved to drop the subject of him harboring jealous feelings towards Bruce.

"Well, like I said, I'm not sure if you noticed or not, but your hair is…a bit…longer than usual," I pointed out. He looked around the room as though trying to see himself somehow. I pursed my lips as I led him to a mirror in the bathroom so he could see just how long his hair had become.

"Oh, so it has!" he exclaimed as he peered into the mirror with me.

"Right—so, I was wondering…just maybe…if you would possibly…let me…cut your hair," I stammered. There was silence. The Joker just stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments and then averted his eyes to me standing beside him. A smirk began curling up on the edge of his lips as he glanced at me.

"I _do_ love the way you think Giadaaa—this will be _so_ fun!" he giggled finally. I released a sigh of relief and laughed along with him.

"Okay, let me go get my scissors!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Wha…wait…we're doing this _now_?" He asked, suddenly anxious as he followed me out of the bathroom.

"Uh…yeah," I said, scanning him up and down with my eyes.

"But Giada—it's such a rash decision…and so soon. At least let me change back into my clothes…at my place," he urged, still following me about the apartment like a puppy dog. I turned around on him and analyzed his face. I pursed my lips and then nodded in agreement.

"Okay. But we're going to your place now and getting this over and done with," I stated.

"Okay, okay—we're going," he agreed quickly. We were out the door without even the opportunity for hesitation. We hastily made our way through Gotham to the Joker's apartment, up the fire escape and in through the window.

"Just give me a minute!" he urged, stopping me in the kitchen as he ran to his room. I hoisted myself up onto the counter and waited while my now seemingly narcissistic Joker readied himself for the haircut of his life.

Moments later, he re-emerged from the bedroom, clothed in his purple pin stripe pants, blue shirt, tie and green vest and purple overcoat—face paint included. My heart skipped a beat at seeing him back to his normal ways again.

"You ready now?" I asked, hopping down from the counter. He nodded and led me into the bathroom. I removed the scissors from my pocket.

"You really should sit down on the toilet for this," I said, looking up at him. He was much too tall for me to cut his hand standing.

"I don't think having me take a shit while you do this is a very good idea, Giada," he mused.

"Haha, very funny, now sit your ass down," I said as I pushed him down onto the toilet and draped a towel about his shoulders. He looked absolutely dreadful—the nervous kind you get right before you know you're about to do something incredibly stupid. He had thought this was a great idea until I told him I wanted to do it today. Apparently he didn't think it was that great of an idea after all. Oh well. I would change his mind—I would make him into that dark and sexy Joker again. I was determined.

I wet his hair until it was good and wet through and through. I took the scissors to his hair and was about to cut, but something stopped me. Maybe I should use a razor blade—scissors would cut his hair too straight and that wouldn't look right.

"Do you have a razor I can use?" I asked.

"Do I have a razor? Do you know who you're asking?" he asked sarcastically. I blushed. I knew after I asked it was a stupid question.

"I have one that should work in the bedroom—on the dresser," the Joker offered. I ran quickly to the bedroom and retrieved the razor. With the razor in one hand and some of his hair in my other hand, I tugged on the hair so it was tight. Quick and up down stroked of the blade, I cut into the hair. It parted from my hand and fell back into place. It was the perfect length! A surge of excitement spread through my body. I finished cutting the back of his head and then moved to the front.

"Giada, just keep that blade away from my face—I'm not so fond of…razors near my face unless they're in my own hand," he grimaced as I held the blade near his face. I rolled my eyes and took his hair in my hands and cut it. He closed his eyes tightly as I cut. His hair fell about his face in short waves, just below his cheek—probably his mid-face. The rest of his hair was just below his chin, closer to mid-neck—like it once was when we first met.

"Want me to add the green too?" I asked. The Joker hesitantly opened his eyes.

"You're done already?" he asked, afraid to look in the mirror.

"Yeah—no harm done. I promise. You look…like you," I observed happily. He sighed and closed his eyes again.

"I guess you can add the green too," he responded finally, "it's in the shower in a tube,"

"Yay!" I clapped my hands in excitement as I leaned over him to retrieve the tube of green dye/gel.

"What do I do? Rub it in my hands or sploodge it over your hair and then rub it in?" I asked. He opened his eyes and took the tube from my hand.

"It's not a dick—there's no rubbing and no sploodging involved—although, if you're up for that when we're done, I'd be more than happy to lend you _my_ dick," he winked at me and flashed me a conning smile.

"Give me that!" I snapped as I snatched the tube from him and squeezed a handful of green gel into my hands. I rubbed my hands together and rubbed the gel into his hair. I squeezed a bit more into my hands and added the remaining amount to his hair. It was so perfect. He looked fantastic. I was suddenly so excited that I couldn't hold back my squeal of delight as he stood to his feet. He looked into the mirror and tilted and turned his head every which way until he finally nodded in approval.

"I'm so thrilled, Giada!" he grinned slightly and then licked his lips as he stared hard at me.

"I am too! I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself," I giggled. I was absolutely elated that my Joker was back—standing in front of me looking at me so intensely.

"It seems I'll be calling you every time I need my hair done, now," he said finally, walking towards me. I backed up for each step be took toward me until I was no longer in the bathroom, but flushed up against the wall of the dark living room. He kept walking towards me until he was inches from my face. He reached down with his gloved right hand and took the razor blade from my hand into his. I simply continued staring into his eyes that bore so intensely into my own. My heart beat quickened as I fully released the blade from my hand to his—a part of me thought that maybe he was about to carve my face. But another part of me thought that he would never do that to me. I was wrong.

He raised his arm and I instinctually grabbed forcefully onto his biceps—or more accurately, his overcoat. I squirmed in his firm hold of me as he continued lifting his arm, bringing the blade nearer and nearer to my face. Finally, with his other hand, he held my face between his fingers.

"Hold still," he instructed me as he took the blade closer…

He removed his hand from my face, looked down and grabbed a hold of the neck of my shirt. With one swift motion with the blade, I wasn't even able to tell what he had done. I waited for my face to feel immense pain and blood, but nothing happened. My eyes were tightly closed but soon opened when no sensation filled my body. I opened my eyes to see his face grinning back at me.

"You had a horrific thread sticking out of your shirt—it was driving me _crazy!_" he exclaimed with his hands. I looked down and noticed he had dropped the blade to the floor. When I looked back up at him again, his hands rushed to my face and he planted a kiss on my lips. When he pulled away finally, I was actually able to breathe again.

"I thought you were going to cut my face!" I gasped, placing my hand to my chest.

He laughed maniacally, "Me? Cut your face!? Giada! The thoughts you have should have landed _you_ in Arkham by now!"

I slowly eased into laughing with him, "Yeah, I guess you're right—but I can never tell with you!"

"You're right—you can never tell with me," he said finally, no longer laughing and staring intently at me. I immediately ceased laughing, suddenly afraid again. He then burst out laughing again.

"Giada! _You_ don't have a reason to ever fear me, like others do. I would never hurt _you_—I feel like you should know this by now. You know me better than that. I know you know me better than that—you're just letting your mind play…tricks…on you," he explained finally, "Don't do that—it makes me…sad…seeing you…fear me," The Joker then wrapped his arms about me and held me close to him. The familiar scent of peanut oil and potato chips filled my nose as I was engulfed in his arms. I loved the feeling of being pressed close to his firm body covered by the large purple overcoat.


	58. Discovery

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58. Discovery

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all for your reviews!! Sorry it's been a while since my last post—stupid school. Graduation just won't come fast enough! _

A few days after performing my Joker make-over, The Joker felt that it would be optimal for us to return back to the Iceberg Lounge. The idea of going back there again made me both jump with excitement, but a twinge of anxiety knotted itself in my stomach at the idea of going back there—the Penguin, for one thing, was a bit shoddy for me. I was also anxious about seeing what other Gotham criminals I might run in to. Finally, I hoped that perhaps the Joker would want to go back as himself this time, not his younger form.

"Well, Giada…how about it? A little trip back to the old 'berg in order, or what?" he asked me, licking his lips, eager for my response. I couldn't understand why he'd be so eager to bring me back, I figured I couldn't pass up an opportunity to go on a date with the Joker.

"Yeah, sure, why not? Let's go," I agreed. He paused for a moment, analyzing my face and posture as I stood before him. He walked around me and narrowed his eyes a bit finally.

"You look unsure of your answer," he stated finally, taking a step closer towards me. I really hated how he had a sixth sense with me.

"Well, I…am just a little anxious about the other criminals we might run in to when we get there," I explained truthfully. The Joker's laughing lips exploded into a cacophonous laughter.

"The other criminals, Giada?! Woo! That's a good one," he cackled.

"What?! It's the truth! I mean, I don't really know many of them—and I feel a little strange about the Penguin!" I exclaimed over his laughter.

"The Penguin is no one to worry over, Giada—just a…man. And as for the others…well, they really won't know what to do with themselves around you when they see you…with me," he explained slowly and carefully.

"But you wore a disguise last time," I pointed out, "I guess I figured that would be something you'd do when you go to the Iceberg Lounge…you know…to kind of…go unnoticed,"

The Joker shook his head from side to side, "No…no, see, I did that because I saw you there with…Wayne. If we go tonight, and any night after this…I'll be…me," he stated affirmatively.

"And what does it do to your…reputation…among the other criminals if they see you…the Joker…with me. What am I to them…your sidekick or something?" I asked with a small huff of a laugh, trying to play it off like a small joke. My heart was racing with anticipation. He shook his head again and licked his lips.

"No. No, no, no, see that's just it—I _want_ them to see you with me…so they know to keep their _hands off_," he responded, his voice low, almost in a grumble. I was taken aback by his comment. I hadn't anticipated this. He wanted to be seen with me, he wanted to be seen dancing with me and drinking with me. I felt a small smile bend my lips.

"Then…I guess we should go," I said with a shrug, trying to make light of his statement. He grinned then opened his mouth for one final request.

"No face paint for you tonight. You're going…as you," the Joker smirked.

My mouth dropped open. How could he possibly expect me to show up to the Iceberg Lounge with him _without_ face paint—_not_ as Jade?! I was still working at Arkham—I had a reputation to uphold! Despite the fact criminals populated the Iceberg Lounge, common citizens populated it as well—including my dear friends Bruce Wayne. Though Bruce Wayne was no common citizen, I knew very well why he would entertain himself at the lounge.

"How could you expect that of me?! I can't show up with you as myself! I'm still working at Arkham, you do realize—if anyone ever saw me with you, everything would be undone!" I exclaimed.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh," he held his gloved hand up to my mouth, "I'm meeting you there—inside the lounge…I'll meet you…for the first time. It'll be so much fun! Like a little game!" he giggled finally at the idea of pretending to meet me for the first time.

"This will never work—it's completely unpredictable as to who'll be there," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I'll meet you in there," he finalized the deal. There were no if's, and's or but's. I guess he liked to play things close to the chest. No, I knew he liked to play things close to the chest. He liked taking risks and grabbing life by the balls. I couldn't fault him for that—it was just who he is.

In any event, I agreed to his quest and met him at 10:30 at the Iceberg Lounge, or rather, I showed up and waited for him to show up and, inconspicuously, we would meet. This whole pretending to meet again thing was so odd—I wasn't even sure what I should think about the whole thing. Knowing him, he probably had something up his sleeve he wasn't telling me. There had to be a reason for this kind of event, but I didn't press the matter.

I showed up at 10:30 to the Iceberg Lounge. It was just beginning to snow outside as I walked through the entrance. I felt the bass from the music rumble through my feet as I walked through the coat room. As I walked, I kept turning my head, hoping the Joker would make his appearance and that I wouldn't have to be alone in the club for too long.

"Oh Miss Giada! You're back! So _good_ to see you—oh…you're here alone?" The Penguin suddenly greeted me as he seemed to pop out of nowhere. My heart skipped a beat and I jumped a bit, startled from his unexpected appearance. Then again, I should have expected on seeing him—he did own the club, after all.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, forcing a smile as I placed my hand to my chest, "Yes…I'm here, again. I think Bruce said he would be meeting me here," I lied, still smiling, trying to seem convincing. The Penguin smiled back and nodded his head.

"Yes, of course, of course," he responded, peering at me through small eyes and his monocle. I grinned again at him, this time nervously as I made my way from the coatroom and into the lounge. The Penguin followed me silently, close behind. I paused for a moment, scanning the crowded lounge and dance floor for a familiar face, but all was lost in the cloud of dim lights and quickly moving faces. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turned around to face the Penguin once more.

"I'm afraid Mr. Wayne has yet to make an appearance this evening—though he was here last night…and the night before that," the Penguin stated, his voice fluid and greasy. There wasn't much I could say in response to that—I wasn't supposed to be meeting Bruce…I was supposed to be meeting the Joker. Come to think of it, I hadn't spoken to or seen Bruce since the night he first told me to meet him at the lounge. It had been a few days ago, sure, but it felt like a century. I licked my lips as I glanced about the room one last night.

"Well that's too bad then, isn't it," I responded finally, darting my eyes away from his every few moments, in an attempt at catching a familiar face in my peripheral.

"Indeed it is—but who's to say he won't show tonight!" the Penguin gestured grandly outward with his cane. I forced another smile across my face.

"Yes. Well I do hope he makes it. If not, I'm sure there are others here I can mingle with," I offered, hoping he'd let me go take a seat down by the dance floor.

"Oh of course," he replied, "Well, I'll let you do that…Miss Giada," he took a step back from me and I took that as my cue to head for the dance floor. I darted down the steps and squirmed my way through the crowd of bobbing people until the Penguin was completely out of my sight. I did not rest until I found a vacant table and chair for me to seat myself. As I sat, part of me hoped Bruce would show up and spare me from my loneliness. I must have looked pathetic—sitting alone at a nightclub was not something I felt any eligible young woman should do in her lifetime, but since it was part of a plan, I felt I had no other option.

I kept my eyes scanning the dance floor and the faces seated at various tables and sofas along the club walls. It was well past 10:30 and the Joker was nowhere to be found. Irritated as I was, I kept waiting. Maybe I should just go out and dance or something—keep my mind off the fact that I was in a nightclub, alone. Just as I was about to stand, my eyes focused on a familiar person—someone that rang a bell in my mind: a blonde woman. In that moment, my mind raced back to the last time I was at the club with Bruce—the Joker had shown up, and I was drunk and we danced and then I remembered seeing Bruce sitting with a blonde woman. I had completely forgotten about her! I had forgotten I asked the Joker who she was…and he avoided my question. He knew who she was. I squinted harder at her through the crowd and dark lighting. I felt I knew her as well. She knew Bruce, apparently. Maybe she worked at Wayne Enterprises. I rose to my feet and my heart dropped into my stomach as I got a better view of the blonde woman. She was at the door and finally turned to face the room. Seeing her face made my stomach churn. It was Pixie.

That bitch was pregnant—but here she was, meeting up strangers in the Iceberg Lounge…and Bruce! How could I forget Bruce?! He knew Pixie! He knew her as Batman. There couldn't possibly be any way that he would get her confused with someone else. No other woman in this city of criminals had beautiful blonde hair and played around with the other criminals of the city—nonetheless did as many drugs as her either. I shook my head in disbelief. It just couldn't be her. After blinking several times while staring at her in the distance, I wasn't able to shake it from my visual—it was Pixie. She was standing by the door to the coatroom, scanning the room just as I had. She appeared to be waiting for someone. Her drug deal, no doubt. That bitch was pregnant and still doing drugs. Unbelievable. I averted my eyes from her and scanned the room once more for the Joker. Where the hell was he?! I decided to make my way down to the dance floor. I needed to get a drink and start getting my dance on. This night was turning sour pretty fast.

I made my way to the bar and ordered myself a shot of patron. I downed it in one swift motion, void of salt and lime. I was too anxious to bother. When I turned my back to the bar and began walking down to the dance floor, I saw Pixie turn towards the door and greet the man she was meeting. In one quick motion that felt like a lifetime, Pixie greeted my best friend Bruce with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I felt the patron almost heave itself back up my esophagus from my churning stomach. Oh this was awful. This was the definition of awful. Not only had Pixie stolen the Joker's heart, but now she was stealing Bruce's. This couldn't be true. Bruce _knew_ Pixie was a criminal—he knew everything about her botanicals and whatnot! He had to know about the drugs too—and he also knew about the pregnancy. This had to be a plan of his. There was no way he could possibly have feelings for her.

Suddenly, my concentration was blown to pieces by the fantastic DJ. It was as though he could feel my emerging emotional angst. "Scream" by Timbaland filled the club—the song I danced with the Joker to the last time I was there. I had to dance. I let the music fill my body and carry me out to the dance floor.

While I was in my music euphoria, I failed to notice the Joker enter the club. He looked brilliant—fresh face paint, the purple suit, the green tinted hair. He was perfect. Licking his lips, he made his way through the club, his dark eyes searching for me in every direction. The pulsating beat from the bass filled his ears as he scanned the dance floor…until he finally saw me, dancing. A grin spread across his lips as he made his way to the bar and ordered a shot of Jack. He downed it without a flinch and strode over to the DJ, requesting a song, no doubt.

"Hypnotize" by Notorious B.I.G filled the club as the Joker made his way to me. The song I had requested last time I was there—I danced drunkenly with Bruce to it. It was my song. Just as I was about to dance, the Joker made his appearance known to me. His dark eyes met mine as he snaked his arm about my waist, pulling me close him.

"Care to dance?" he asked in a low voice as he pressed himself into me. I just about melted into him.

"You bet," I replied with a fantastical smile. We grinded to the Notorious B.I.G just as Bruce and I had days ago—but this time, I was different. I was dancing just as suggestively, but it was with the Joker—and this time, that was different too—he was himself, clothes, face paint and all. I caught a couple of shocked expressions as we danced to the song, but I ignored them all as the song droned on. I had almost completely forgotten about Bruce and his alleged date, Pixie Dust, sitting just beyond the dance floor…waiting for us to discover them.


	59. The Way

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59. The Way

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_Disclaimer: Thank you to all you readers and reviewers out there! My immense love to you all for your dedication! I apologize for this, but there is some drug use in this chapter. I am sorry to those of you who dislike the drug use of the characters in this story—I hope this does not offend you. I do not do drugs, but I am reading the book "Candy" by Luke Davies, which the movie "Candy" is based on, with Heath Ledger. There is a lot of great stuff in that book and in that movie—but both are based on drugs. There is nothing in this chapter that is from either the movie or the book, but there is a drug of choice from both in this chapter. Again, I am sorry if this offends you, but I feel it is necessary for the character development as well as the plot. For those of you who don't care either way—enjoy! _

Almost the instant the song ended and the Joker's body was no longer pressed up against mine, my mind raced back to Bruce and Pixie sitting at the table just beyond the dance floor. There was nothing that could hide the distress that plagued my face in that moment. The Joker took notice to the twisted way my lips met each other and the angst raging inside my eyes.

"Another dance?" he asked, trying to pull me from my new found emotion. I shook my head and pulled my arm from his.

"No—not right now…I…I can't think of dancing," I said loudly to him over the blaring music. He pursed his lips tightly together and glanced about the dance floor. I had almost forgotten that he and I didn't know each other at the moment. I caught on to his anxious dodge about the room and followed his nervous eyes.

"I'm Giada! Nice to meet you," I called to him over the music. His lips curled into a grin.

"Joker…in case you couldn't tell," he responded, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows suggestively. I chuckled with him, but quickly lost it as I glanced away from the dance floor and up to the table. Bruce and Pixie were hidden behind other guests, but I knew they were there. The Joker followed my eyes with his and reached out to me. His firm gloved hand turned my shoulders so that I face him.

"How about a drink?" he asked, pouting out his lips and widening his eyes.

"Sure," I agreed. He led me from the dance floor to the bar where he ordered us two shots of tequila each. I looked down at the tequila and then back up at him. I was going to need a lot more than tequila to get me through this evening.

"Got anything stronger than that?" I asked.

"What do you want? Whiskey? Everclear?" The Joker asked, almost irritated by my lack of interest in the tequila. He knew tequila was my favorite shot, but I think he was just annoyed with my rejection.

"No, tequila is fine. I love tequila. I just…really need to get fucked up tonight," I paused, remembering I had to pretend I just met him, "You see, Joker, I had a real shitty day at work—I work over at Arkham Asylum and I just found out my best friend is seeing…a…person who should really be a patient in Arkham," I hinted to him at why I was in such a foul mood. His eyes immediately scanned the crowd of people on the dance floor and then up to the people sitting at tables and over sized couches. I turned around to see the view we had of the club from the bar, but Bruce and Pixie were still hidden behind others.

"Forget it," I said as I turned back to him. I took the shot of tequila and downed it. The Joker returned his gazed back to me and took his shot of tequila. We then took our second shot, clanked glasses and shot them back without hesitation.

"Now…for that…something stronger?" He asked, winking at me. I peered up at him quizzically, confused at what he was thinking. He obviously knew about Bruce and Pixie and my horrid mood—but what did he have in mind for me? What could be 'something stronger'? Maybe a quickie in the bathroom. I hoped. His purple hand took a light hold of my wrist and led me away from the bar and all the way to the back of the club near the bathrooms.

"Wait…right here," he instructed me and a slight smirk. I nodded in agreement and he slipped away from me. I stood against the wall next to the ladies' room and scanned the club yet again. This time, I was able to see Bruce and Pixie sitting at a table off in a secluded corner of the lounge. My heart sank as I saw them hunched over the small table, their faces nearly touching. There was no way he could possibly be in love with her. There was no way he could ever pretend something like that either—he hated her and as Batman, it would just be horribly unethical of him to fall in love with her—not to mention that as his best friend, he should never even consider dating her out of principle—she was my official arch nemesis. I paused at that thought. The Joker was Bruce's arch nemesis. I was with the Joker and Bruce supported me. He mildly supported me, but he _did_ support me. Oh God, was I going to have to support Bruce in a relationship with Pixie Dust?!

The thought was much too difficult to endure in the moment. I forced myself to graze my eyes over to their table—just at the exact wrong moment. They leaned in and kissed each other. I wanted to vomit. It was the worst feeling imaginable—almost as bad as when I found out the Joker had once loved her. It was almost as bad as when I found out she was possibly carrying his baby. But this—this was my best friend. This was Batman—falling for this wench. Batman was falling. Who would save the hero after he's fallen? Would I have to save him? Would I have to support his sick and twisted romance with a woman I despised?

I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get out of that club. And where the fuck was the Joker? He ran off somewhere to get who-knows-what and left me in the line of fire with Mr. Fallen Hero and Ms. I'm-A-Pregnant-Whore.

"Giada—this way," the Joker grabbed my shoulder out of nowhere. I jumped, startled by his surprise entrance.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, forcing my eyes to meet his.

"Back here," he said in a low voice and led me around a corner from the bathrooms and into a small dark hallway. At the end of the hallway was a door. The Joker jiggled the door knob a couple of times broke into the room. Without glancing twice behind us, we stumbled into the dark room and closed the door behind us. There was a dim glow coming from the outside street lights that lit up most of the room. It looked like some kind of office. I guessed this must be where the Penguin conducts most of his business during the club's off hours. The Joker switched on a dim desk lamp and removed a couple of things from his pockets.

"What's all of that?" I asked, gliding over to the desk where he stood shuffling through his things.

"Your 'something stronger'. It's to…you know, help…ease…the pain," he explained, removing a spoon and a bag of white powder. My heart fell. He had drugs.

"You want me to do drugs with you?! This is NOT what I had in mind! You said the cocaine was the last and only time we'd ever do drugs! I will NOT partake in this!" I exclaimed, suddenly enraged by the display of white powder on the desk.

The Joker spun around and stared hard into my eyes. Licking his lips, he approached me slowly, "You said you wanted something stronger. I'm not going to advocate drug use as a…means of…forgetting, but I will advocate for the…" he averted his eyes from mine and grinned, "_way_ I can make you forget…if you just, try it,"

I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. It sounded like he wanted me to use the drugs to forget about how shitty I felt about Bruce and Pixie—but that he would also help. I was curious about how he would help me—not how the drugs would help me. I knew the drugs couldn't possibly help me—but a part of me needed to know how he would help me. In that moment, it was necessary for me to learn how he could make me forget.

"What is it?" I asked, glancing down at the desk behind him. He turned around and meandered back to the desk and held up the packet.

"This?" he asked, jiggling it between his index finger and thumb. I nodded my head.

"Heroin," he responded, placing it back onto the desk. Heroin?! There was NO way I could try heroin. If it was cocaine, MAYBE I'd have given it a shot…or a snort, rather…but I knew I could get over that stuff now. Heroin?! Heroin is the most addictive substance out there! Heroin withdrawal is the worst kind of withdrawal out there. Oh, I was fucked.

"Heroin?!" I shrieked, then covered my hands over my mouth. I hadn't meant for my inner exclamation to make its way out loudly. "There is no way I can try heroin! Are you nuts?! That is the worst kind of withdrawal—and it's so addictive!"

"This is the one and only time I will ever allow us to…use it," the Joker explained carefully as he removed the syringes from his pocket. They were new, both in plastic packaging.

"But why heroin!? And where did you get it? Who did you buy it from?" I asked, feeling horribly dejected.

"Heroin—because you've never tried it. And where? Come on, Giada! Are you that crazy? Do you know where you are? This is a drug lord's haven! As for who…well…you could look out there at all of the little…innocent…people in the lounge…and any one of them would be a good answer. Except…Bruce Wayne—I don't feel he'd sell me any…heroin," the Joker licked his lips and stared intensely at me.

"I can't get addicted to drugs again—you know that!" I hissed back at him.

"You can't become addicted from one use," the Joker urged, "but it you really…refuse…I'll just be a minute," he turned to the table and opened one of the syringes. He placed it carefully onto the plastic bag and then removed his purple overcoat.

"You're really going to shoot up on heroin?" I asked, almost in disbelief. I was partially hurt by his actions—I didn't want him to be stoned on dope while I was suffering with Bruce and Pixie still at the club. What was even worse, the Joker knew I wanted nothing to do with drugs—he knew I was terrified of addiction because I had been addicted to cocaine. There he was, rolling up the sleeves on his button down shirt, holding the syringe now between his teeth. The red from his lips was smeared on the syringe.

Once his sleeves were rolled up, he removed the syringe from his mouth and placed it back onto the plastic bag, "I don't get addicted, Giada—you know that. I was just simply adhering to your request for something stronger—it was a…long shot…but I figured I'd take it. I'm not going to let it go to waste," he explained as he emptied the little bag of heroin into the spoon. Part of me felt bad…guilty even…for saying I wanted something stronger to get me through the evening. He went and bought only what he could interpret as something stronger—well, he was right—heroin was something stronger than tequila! I couldn't really fault him for that. He went and spent a decent buck on this heroin too—all in an attempt at fulfilling my request for something stronger.

I sighed and frowned. I had to do it with him. The guilt was overbearing.

"What do I do?" I asked finally, holding out my arm and looking at it for possible veins. He looked up at me and grinned. He had just dropped some water into the spoon to dissolve the heroin.

"Well, I'll suck up the heroin into these…syringes…then we…shoot up," he smirked again at me.

"Okay, that's great and all, but I don't know how to 'shoot up'. I mean, I guess I do if it's like taking someone's blood or giving them a shot, right?" I asked, moving closer to him, observing all that he did in preparation.

"Exactly," he replied, licking his lips and taking his syringe into his hand. With one hand, he sucked up some of the heroin into the needle and then placed it back down onto the plastic bag.

"Hold this," he handed me the spoon and then opened the second syringe bag. With one quick motion, he sucked up the remaining heroin into the second syringe and then handed it to me. I slowly placed the spoon down onto one of the plastic bags and watched him as he rolled up the sleeve on his left arm so that it was above his bicep. The tightness of the rolled sleeve on his upper bicep helped pop up some of the veins in his arm. I was mesmerized, not by his ability to shoot up, but by the size of his bulging bicep. It caught me off guard—and left me slightly wet in my pants. Whoops!

Before I could even realize it, he had pushed the plunger down and the heroin was ejected into his vein. He removed the needle and placed it onto the bag with the spoon.

"Aughhh," he sighed and shook his head, "Your turn, my lovely little Italian princess" he giggled as the drug kicked in. The darkness of his eyes was overwhelming as his pupils shrank into little pinpricks.

"I'm too nervous! I don't think I can give myself a shot—can you do it for me?" I asked, my heart rate increasing with each breath. He grinned seductively at me and slid to me effortlessly. He stood close behind me with his arms wrapped around me and softly took the needle from my hands. Placing it carefully into his right hand, he held my left arm with his left hand and held the syringe in his right hand as his arm wrapped itself across my body.

"Ready?" he whispered in a low voice into my ear. His breath sent chills down my back. I was eager to be where he was. The warmth of his body pressed up against mine was the perfect distraction as the needle slid into my arm and into the vein. He pushed the plunger in and sent the heroin surging into my blood stream. He removed the needle as quickly as it had entered me and tossed it onto the desk. In exactly 5 seconds, I felt what he felt 20 seconds before me.

"Whoa," I sighed as the rush hit me. He started kissing my neck and running his hands all over my body. I turned myself around in his arms and made my lips meet his. The feeling of his lips on mine was completely euphoric—like nothing I'd ever experienced. I was craving him in so many ways. I needed his lips to glide across mine and I needed his body pressed against mine and I needed him inside me.

"I need you," I whispered to him, "I'm so wet,"

At this confirmation, within seconds, my clothes were on the floor, as were his, and he had me bent over the desk. Sex on heroin was like a never ending orgasm—and when orgasm actually came, it was like a fireworks explosion all over my body.

After having sex in about five different positions, the Joker and I sprawled out on the office floor, naked, breathing slowly; our interlocked fingers being our only connection.

"I told you…the way I can make you…forget…is well worth it," he breathed slowly, his voice low.

"You were right…you're always right," I agreed lethargically as a smile slowly slid across my lips.

"Ohhh Giada…you're just too…much…fun," he sighed, sprawling himself out on the floor even more.

"Hey, do you remember how you told me…once…that I make you…dizzy? Is this feeling what you mean?" I asked, unable to speak at a reasonable rate. The Joker and I were to be stoned for the next few hours—lethargic, drowsy, low heart rate and slow breathing. It was relaxing, but getting kind of annoying. I liked life a bit faster than this—especially being an ex-cocaine addict, where life was always in the fast lane.

"Something like that—dizzy in the sense…you give me this…euphoric feeling. I feel…like this…when I'm with you—and when I'm not on heroin," he explained, turning his head towards me, hoping to catch a glimpse of my eyes.

"So this is what it feels like," I sighed, too dazed to really hear what he was saying.

"Giada—do you understand it? You should—you already know _how_ to feel," the Joker stated.

"Yes—but now I know what it is like for you when you feel things…it feels like this," I giggled, glad to have the relaxed euphoric feeling spread through my body.

"It's not so much…the feeling—it's more of the…way…I feel when I'm with you, Giada. It's…the way," he tried to explain.

"Just tell me you love me, please!" I suddenly shouted, rolling over on my stomach. The Joker was silent. All was silent. All was black.


	60. Spinning

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60. Spinning

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_Disclaimer: Hey all! Sorry for the delay in updates, but I'm on spring break right now, so yay! I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing, and sorry for the cliffhanger and leaving you all for so long!! I use a trick in this chapter that was used in "Candy". I do not know if it is a junkie myth for real or just a junkie myth in the story of Candy. Anyways, it is not mine. _

Everything was black, but all I could feel was euphoria. I couldn't tell if I had died or not, but whatever happened to me, it felt wonderful. I didn't even care if I was dead. If death felt this good, then let it take me! Everything about my existence felt complete peace and relaxation—it was beautiful and restful. I was floating on a cloud in utter darkness. I was lifted from my body and spinning towards the other realm. It didn't matter I didn't know were I was headed—just that it felt like perfection.

It felt like hours—an eternity even—that I was submerged in the ever-peaceful darkness. And then it abruptly ended with my eye lids slowly opening. The good feeling was still there, but this time, there was light and a familiar face smiling back at me—a face that was smiling but wasn't really smiling. I smiled back up at him.

"Wow—did you feel that too? Let's go back there," I sighed, still lazily grinning.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next thing I remember is waking up the following morning in the Joker's bed. I sat up in bed and rubbed my face in my hands before I even noticed him sitting at the foot of the bed. I lifted my head and saw him gazing up at me, smirking slightly at me.

"I can't believe you mad me try heroin," I groaned, running my fingers through the hair at my scalp. My mouth felt dry and horrid and my brain throbbed steadily inside my head.

"I didn't force you into anything," the Joker responded, licking his lips, "I made…a suggestion," he raised his eyebrows and rose to his feet. He made his way up the mattress and sat down beside me.

"I don't remember what happened—did I overdose or something? Everything went black but I don't remember how it happened or when it happened or anything. You had to have given me too much," I shook my head and paused, "Will you tell me what happened?"

"Sure, but you probably remember most of it up until you slipped away," he grinned and licked his lips…

The Joker and I were lying on the floor in our heroin-induced state of ecstasy. We were both naked, hands entwined. I asked him something about this being comparable to his description of feeling 'dizzy' when with me. He told me it was not that he as dizzy, but it was the way he felt about me that was the important thing. I remembered all of these things as he told me—but he left something out that I didn't remember—something about me wanting him to tell me he loved me.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"_Just tell me you love me, please," I shouted before passing into the blissful realm of overdose. _

"_I could tell you that now, but I want you to…remember it," the Joker replied. When I didn't reply he rolled onto his side and saw that my eyes were closed and that my chest was barely rising and falling with the intake of breath. _

"_Giada?" He asked, rolling onto his stomach and sliding next to me. I didn't respond. "Giada? Giada!" he exclaimed, clutching my face between the fingers of his left hand. He gently shook my head from side to side, but I was still unresponsive. He then decided it would be more effective to start slapping my face, "Giada? Giada, come on, Giada!" He pulled himself up to a kneeling position and knew he had to act fast. He pulled on his clothes and ran from the room, back into the club. When he returned, he had a glass of salt water. The Joker swiftly retrieved my syringe from the desk and sucked up some of the saline solution. He slid behind me and lifted me into a sitting position. My head drooped forward as he held me around the waist with his left arm. Using his left hand, he slapped my right arm for veins and with his right hand, slid the syringe into the vein and released the saline solution. _

_Moments later, my eyes fluttered open, "Wow—did you feel that too? Let's go back there," I sighed, still lazily grinning up at him. The Joker breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I wasn't going to die or anything. He helped me get dressed and then escorted me from the club back to his apartment, where I fell into a deep sleep. _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"You used saline? I never knew that could work," I said, almost in awe.

"It could have been that…it could have been luck. Who knows?" the Joker responded with a shrug.

"I'm so sorry for that—I…I won't be using heroin any time…ever again," I replied, glancing down. I felt really guilty for causing him distress, but part of me was glad he was distressed at all. He could have just let me OD. I guess that's the beauty of the Joker—you just never know.

"Well, I can tell you that…it made you forget _why_ you did it," the Joker stated, widening his eyes at me, hoping for a response.

"Wait…why did I…? I…oh no! I saw Bruce—with _Pixie_!" I shrieked, suddenly submerged in the dark chasm of hate from which I had to escape the previous night.

"Exactly," the Joker replied, licking his lips.

"Oh, this is awful—how could he do this? He knows how horrible she is! He knows she's pregnant and that she does drugs and that she's just up to no good at all!" I exclaimed, overwhelmed with helplessness.

"Giada, maybe he's…got a plan. And…are you even sure it's Pixie?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes it's her! I saw them! The blonde—and the scantily clad—and…and…" I trailed off, trying to remember the woman with Bruce. It was far away, and crowded. Was it Pixie? I had been so sure of it. The woman looked just like her—it had to be her! I turned to the Joker and glared at him. My hand raised up and smacked his shoulder.

"Stop trying to make me doubt this! It was her!" I scolded him. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's test this theory, shall we? Iceberg Lounge, tonight," he said finally.

"Okay—but no drugs," I stated firmly.

"No drugs," he agreed, smirking connivingly at me. I smiled back at him and then threw the blankets off of me.

"I need to shower," I announced, jumped up and went into the bathroom. The Joker fell backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He knew it. He knew how he felt about me, but how could he bring himself to tell me? He hadn't even admitted it to himself yet—how could he even possibly imagine admitting it to me? He was just glad that last night I had hit overdose at the right time—he didn't have to answer me. What would he have said? Would he have lied and said he didn't love me? Would he have said he loved me? Would he have said nothing at all? What was love, anyway? Was what he felt for me actually love? It had been so long since he loved—and he couldn't even compare his feelings for Pixie to his feelings for me. What he felt for me was something deeper—stronger—profound—inexplicable. Would love even be a word to describe this new found feeling? Could love explain this emotion? No…no it couldn't. He didn't love me. He was certain of that. He definitely didn't love me.

"Hey! Wake up!" I called to the Joker, who had fallen asleep on the bed. Startled, he sat up with a jolt and looked around the room confusedly.

"Was I talking in my sleep?" he asked suddenly.

"No—not at all. Why?"

"Just dreaming of…new ways to…kill people—blow things up. Those kinds of things," he purposefully, poorly lied. I narrowed my eyes at his sarcasm, but was unsure if he was telling the truth or not. I just shook my head and smirked at him.

"Sometimes I believe you when you say things like that-sometimes, I know you're not telling the truth," I stated, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Does it…make your head…spin?" he asked slowly and thoroughly, bearing his eyes into mine.

"Yeah, actually it does," I admitted.

"Spin…right round…"

"…like a record, baby?" I mocked, finishing his sentence with the lyrics to Dead or Alive's song "You Spin Me Right Round". He grinned and then nodded.

"Yeah, like a record—but you spin _my_ head when you go down…" he smirked and winked at me. I rolled my eyes, recalling the re-make of my 80s song.

"I take it you're suggesting something from me," I said finally.

"I take it you take my hints well," the Joker replied, grinning and then pulled me down on top of him.


	61. Joker Face

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61. Joker Face

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_Disclaimer: Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. I know updates have not been frequent lately and I apologize! The song reference in this chapter belongs to Lady GaGa_

"Joker, I'm bored! Let's go dancing again!" I exclaimed, walking around his apartment. I felt like I had been indoors for days, but it had only been a few hours.

"Well, I have some heroin left over it you want thrills…" he smirked as he pulled the little packet from his shoe and then shook it between his thumb and pointer fingers. I rolled my eyes at him and shook my head.

"Tempting, but no. I want to dance! And I don't want to be high! I'll be drunk—drunk is good—but high is bad. You saw what happened last night! Come on, let's go to the Iceberg!" I paused and then turned back towards him, clenching my fists, "Oh! Maybe we'll see Bruce and Pixie—I can give her a little surprise of her own…"

"Giada, do you live at the Iceberg Lounge? Because it's beginning to feel like you do…" the Joker mused, appearing almost irritated. I frowned back at him and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"No—but you're right. We have been there a lot lately. Maybe it's best for us to just stay here—that way we can just avoid Pixie and Bruce," I replied. I couldn't tell if I was being sarcastic or serious. Part of me didn't want to see them, but part of me had to go back to the lounge…just to see if they were there…again. The unknown was eating me alive from the inside out. Or maybe it was just the heroin leaving my body. Suddenly, the Joker let out a cackling laugh.

"Oh Giada! You give up too easily! You know I can't resist an evening amongst Gotham's finest," he grinned and licked his lips, "especially if you decide on killing Pixie tonight," he giggled again and fell back onto the bed. I smirked, glad that he agreed to my plan.

"Should I bring my gun?" I asked finally, feeling the surge of excitement rise from my stomach to my heart. The Joker quickly sat back up on the bed; his face was serious. "I'll take that as a 'no',"

His lips parted into cacophonous laughter as he jumped to his feet and removed a gun from his jacket pocket, "This gun?" he asked, chuckling slightly as he stood beside me.

"Well, yeah—the one you gave me for Christmas, remember?" I responded, cocking my head to the side.

"Well, if I'm going to…let you…use it, you have to—prove—to me you know how to use it," the Joker replied, licking his lips. He raised his eyebrows and handed the gun to me.

"Prove to you? What do you mean…show you how I would use it on Pixie or something?" I asked, a bit confused.

"Show me," he repeated, raising his eyebrows again and licking his lips once more. I shrugged and cocked the gun.

"I guess I'll just—"

"Shhhhshshshsh. _Show_. Don't tell," he held up his gloved finger to my lips. My eyes narrowed until he removed his hand from my face.

Once his hands were at his sides, I pursed my lips, nodded my head then scratched my head with the barrel of the gun. I had to think. How would I kill Pixie with the gun? Would I put the gun to her head? Would I put the gun under her chin? Would I put the barrel of the gun in her mouth? There were so many splendid ways to end her life with just one weapon! The possibilities seemed endless, but in this moment, I had to pick just one—to prove to the Joker I was worthy of using the gun—probably so I wouldn't have another accident like I had that one time back in Pixie's apartment.

I could sense the Joker was getting a bit anxious with my hesitation—or thought, rather—so I opted for the classic gun-to-temple-of-head routine. I raised the gun and pointed it to the Joker's head. I paused for just a second, hating that I was pointing a gun at his beautiful head. I then forced myself to place the barrel of the gun to his white painted temple.

"Bam," I said flatly as I un-cocked the gun and put my hand down. The Joker's face twisted into elation after having looked immensely serious. He exploded into laughter, "You're just right for this kind of…threat!" he exclaimed.

I nervously smiled back at him, "Yeah, bet you couldn't tell at all how awful I felt pointing that at you though,"

"Smiling always works best for me—then again, I'm always smiling," he reminded me, fully smiling. My heart jumped. I loved when he smiled, however, I couldn't decide if it was easy or difficult to see him smiling as he killed someone. It sounded like something he should do—but the Joker was never predictable.

"So if I promise to smile when I shoot Pixie, then I can use the gun?" I asked, smirking at him and gesturing to the gun in my hand.

"See, now you understand it," he jested and then turned and left the room. I placed the gun down on the bed and quickly followed him.

"Where are you going?" I called after him.

"Uh, the Iceberg," he responded agitatedly, "That is where you wanted to go…" he raised his eyebrows and licked his lips.

"Oh right! I just didn't know you were headed out there now,"

The Joker simply pursed his lips, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest while I ran back into the bedroom and retrieved the gun.

The Joker and I stood outside the lounge, hesitating before entering.

"So do you think tonight is the night I kill Pixie Dust?" I asked anxiously, pacing back and forth. The Joker stood firmly on his feet as his eyes stared straight out in front of him. He licked his lips and blinked his eyes a few times before answering my question.

"I think you'll…surprise…yourself, Giada," he replied in a soothing voice.

"Oh you think?! So I guess that means I'll probably kill her," I responded, still quickly pacing, "Or I won't," I hesitated slightly in my pacing. Just as I was about to quicken my pace again, the Joker's hand wrapped itself about my upper arm, halting me from moving.

"You're making me dizzy—and I don't mean it in the way I said it before," he hissed under his breath. I took my arm back from him forcefully and nodded my head in agreement. He was right—I was being a nervous idiot for no reason. I could kill Pixie. I didn't have to be anxious about anything—I was the one with the gun.

I glanced up at his smiling face and flashed him a grin. He smirked back at me and led me into the pulsating club.

We pushed our way through the coat room and through the club until we eventually made out way to the dance floor. I started dancing immediately as I hit the floor, probably to rid myself of any anxious energy that remained in my body. The Joker, however, remained motionless, biting his lip as he watched me dance.

"I think I need…a drink," he spoke finally over the rumble of music.

"Okay! I'll be here!" I called back to him, still dancing. He disappeared through the crowd of people and I was left alone dancing. Normally I would have felt like a complete idiot, but for some reason, I didn't really care how I looked when I danced when I was at the Iceberg. All I cared about was the fact the Joker was with me and that I had a gun in my pocket, should Pixie show up with Bruce.

"Giada!?" a familiar voice called out to me. I turned my head in all directions as I kept dancing. I guess I felt the need to conspicuously find the person calling my name.

"Giada! Over here!" the voice shouted again. I whipped my head around and saw Bruce standing at the edge of the dance floor.

"Bruce!" I called back at him as I rushed from the floor and jumped into his arms. We held each other in a tight embrace for what felt like minutes, but was really only a few seconds. Bruce set me down on my feet and smiled widely at me.

"Giada, I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you! It's only been what, a week or so?" he laughed deeply and I laughed along with him.

"I know the feeling! I've missed you! How are things? Are you still coming here a lot to, you know, find things out?" I asked, my voice more hushed on the latter part of my question. Bruce smirked at me and nodded his head.

"Yeah, I've been coming here quite a bit actually. I thought I'd see you here more often because of, the Joker," he cleared his throat and forced a smile. I looked down for a moment and then back up at him. I then remember the Joker had gone to the bar. I wondered if he had come back to the dance floor.

"Yeah, I'm with him tonight—he's at the bar. Maybe you should go get a drink with him—you know, bond," I joked, punching him lightly on the arm. Bruce chuckled.

"Yeah, the only bonding I'd do with the Joker would be bonding him to a metal pole with chains," Bruce responded. I frowned up at him.

"Bruce! You're not allowed to do that to the Joker—only I am," I winked at him. Bruce wrinkled his nose.

"That was too much information for me, Giada," he laughed, wrapping his arms around me again. I laughed into his chest, taking in his fresh scent. Bruce always smelled so good—unless he was Batman. Whenever he was Batman, he always wreaked of industrial things. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was never the fresh, clean scent he gave off when he was Bruce Wayne.

Just when I felt I should pull away from Bruce, he held me out at arm's length, "Let's get a drink. My treat," he suggested. I smiled and nodded. We headed up to the bar and Bruce ordered us two shots of Patron. We downed them like the champs we were, just like the first night he took me to the Iceberg.

"Oh Bruce, I think the Joker's looking for me—do you mind?" I asked.

Bruce shook his head, "No, of course not. You came here with him—besides, I wouldn't want to piss him off. Who knows what he'd do to me if he knew we did shots of Patron," Bruce responded sarcastically.

"He'd probably join us," I replied matter-of-factly, then smiled at my friend. "I'll be back,"

"Okay Arnold," Bruce chuckled. I walked through the crowd of people to the dance floor. I finally found the Joker bobbing to the music with a drink in one hand.

"Hey—you like this song?" I asked, tapping him on the back. He swung around to reveal some fruity cocktail complete with a paper umbrella. I couldn't help my chortle a laugh in the back of my throat. I would have never pinned him for the bitch drinks!

"There you are, Giadaaaaa!!" he exclaimed with an enormous grin on his face.

"I didn't know you liked pina coladas!" I laughed, gesturing to his beverage, hoping he'd catch my song reference.

"It's a Mai Tai—I was in the mood for…something…_different_," he explained. I nodded my head and pursed my lips.

"I know it's a Mai Tai—I thought I'd just try you for the Pina Colada song reference, but that's okay," I stated.

"Actually, it's 'if you like pina coladas'," he corrected me, singing the lyric. My heart jumped right out of my chest. The Joker just sang to me. I didn't know he could sing—or that he would even want to sing! It certainly took me by surprise. I stood there in front of him with a stupid grin on my face.

"Giada?" he asked, licking his lips and moving his head in closer to mine so that his lips were by my ear, "Giada, there's still so much you don't know," He pulled his face back and started giggling.

"I knew it! I knew you were still hiding things from me!" I exclaimed and joined him in his laughter. "Oh! Joker! Bruce Wayne is at the bar drinking. Would you want to join him with me?"

The Joker stopped in his tracks and glanced up at the ceiling. He then sucked in some Mai Tai through his straw and glanced back at me with his dark eyes.

"Of course," he responded calmly. My heart started pounding in my chest. For some reason, I couldn't wait for Bruce and the Joker to drink together! I think it was mainly because whenever they'd been around each other, the Joker didn't know he was with Bruce. It was such a rush knowing something the Joker didn't—that the one person aside from myself whom he was so obsessed with, I knew the true alias of Batman.

We wandered up to the bar from the dance floor and caught Bruce just as he was greeting a familiar face—a blonde woman dressed all in black—a woman who was supposed to be pregnant.

I turned to the Joker and my eyes were filled with fire. His eyes smiled maliciously back at mine as he grinned, "Gun?" he asked.

"Oh you bet," I snarled as I reached into my pocket. The Joker and I approached Bruce and Pixie. The closer we got, each step we took, the gun inched itself from my pocket and into my eager hand.

"That bitch…is so…" I was about to say 'dead' as I reached for the gun, but as I looked up, I saw that this woman was anyone but Pixie, "not Pixie" were the words that came out instead.

I turned to the Joker with wide eyes as if to ask him who this woman was with Bruce.

"I told you you'd surprise yourself," the Joker grinned at me, almost seductively. The look on my face only further crumpled into confusion.

"Sorry—you look incredibly…sexy…when you're confused," he giggled.

"I…I don't know what to say…I don't know what to do! Who is that!?" I shrieked under my breath. "How can I keep a poker face now?! It's not Pixie!"

"You can't. You have to keep a Joker face," he responded, licking his lips, staring heavily into my eyes, "because if you can do that, then you've got…a lot more…coming to you tonight,"

"Huh?" I was so utterly confused I don't even think it mattered that it was some blonde stranger and not Pixie. Part of me was relieved it wasn't Pixie!

"Joker face," he whispered into my ear as his gloved hand covered mine, dropping the gun back into my pocket.


	62. To the Mask

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62. To the Mask

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_Disclaimer: Thank you to all of you for the wonderful reviews!! My love to you all! In this chapter, I make a Pulp Fiction reference—see if you catch it! I do not own this line—Quentin Tarantino does. _

I was stunned—too stunned to move, and too stunned to even notice that I was staring right at Bruce and his blonde mystery woman.

"Giada!" Bruce waved to me. I didn't wave back, I just stared, awe stricken.

"It's…it's not Pixie!" I hissed to the Joker again.

"Joker face," he repeated for the hundredth time. I suddenly whipped around to face him and glared hard at him.

"What the fuck does that even mean?! Joker face?!" I shrieked, tossing my hands into the air in frustration.

"Having a Joker face means having a face that no one else can…see," he explained calmly, raising his eye brows and slowly licking his lips. I paused for a moment, ingesting what he had just explained to me. I nodded in understanding. To have a Joker face was to act as though my face were painted like his—so that no one could see what was really on my face. It was perfect!

"Okay, I think I can do that. I mean, I've painted my face before," I said aloud to myself, as though in a sad attempt at reassuring myself. The Joker and I slowly made our way towards Bruce and his blonde friend. My heart was pounding with each step we took. The closer we became, the faster my heart pounded inside my chest.

"Hey Bruce!" I choked as we embraced finally. I could feel the sweat forming beneath my shirt. Good thing the Joker didn't mind awkward smells. "This is the Joker. I forget if you've met before, but well, here we are!" I couldn't believe how awkward _I'd_ become! Forget the smell that didn't even exist—I was the awkward one. Joker face. I had to remember my Joker face. Hm, well I could just look at the Joker to remember that!

Bruce held out his hand to the Joker. My stomach churned as the Joker casually took Bruce's rigid hand in his purple glove. They shook hands firmly.

"Pleasure to finally meet…Gotham's Clown Prince in…person," Bruce smiled. I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he was just trying to please me. I think it was a combination of both, because Bruce glanced over at me after he spoke, and then glanced back at the Joker. The Joker just grinned slightly and nodded.

"Ah yes, the…infamous Bruce Wayne," the Joker sighed, with a small chuckle attached to the end of the sigh.

"Infamous?" I asked, glancing back at Bruce and then to the Joker.

"Yes. Infamous—like me," he responded, narrowing his eyes as he stared hard at Bruce. _Oh God, he knows! The Joker knows Bruce is Batman! I've ruined it for him!_

"Uh, how so?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"Giada! Everyone in this city knows," he gestured to the gorgeous blonde stand beside Bruce, "_This_ is not…uncommon…for our friend Bruce here. Come on, you should know that!"

I let loose a sigh of relief. I should have known! He was referring to Bruce the playboy. Of course! I suppose that would make him infamous.

I chuckled, "Yeah, I guess sometimes I don't really see that side of you, Bruce, so I forget. But really, who is your…date here?"

I was really trying so hard not to be awkward, but it really wasn't paying off. The Joker could tell. I guess his next move on me was to try and make me less awkward. Since I was standing with my back to a wall, he clandestinely snaked his hand behind me and let his hand fall slightly to a forbidden area, if you know what I mean. I would have jumped at this opportunity to bang him on the bar or something, but Bruce and the soon-to-be-named blonde were in front of me. The Joker's attempt only added to the horribly awkward—I was now unable to speak coherently _and_ the Joker was fingering me through my pants from behind! I really hated my life sometimes…

Bruce raised an eyebrow at me curiously before speaking. He could tell I was uncomfortable, but probably not for the reasons he suspected, "This is Selina Kyle," Bruce introduced us.

"Nice to meet you, Selina," I held out my hand for her to shake. She smiled back at me and shook my hand.

"Selina, this is Giada DiMarco—a very good friend of mine and nurse practitioner at Arkham," Bruce was trying to make up for what I could not speak of in the current moment. I could tell. At least she seemed oblivious to my previous hatred towards her in thinking she was Pixie…and that the Joker was copping a feel in the land down under.

"Giada, that's a pretty name. It means Jade, doesn't it?" Selina asked, nonchalantly. I was completely caught off guard. No one ever knew that Giada was Jade in English. That was interesting to me.

"Yes…it is. How did you know that?" I asked, grinning back at her.

"Oh, it's just something I picked up when I was in Italy a couple of years back when I was living there," Selina responded. Curious—she lived in Italy. Wouldn't have pinned her for the traveling type, but I suppose you can never really judge that about a person.

"That's fantastic! I'm Italian—as you could guess from my name. So, when did you and Bruce meet?"

"Oh, well," she glanced at Bruce with an affectionate smile, "we met here, oh…maybe a week or two ago,"

"How nice," I smiled back at her. She then averted her eyes to the Joker, who had left his hand on my ass and was now just staring off into the club, probably hoping to get another mai tai soon.

"So you're the Joker," Selina said finally, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She bit her lip as she glanced at him up and down. Normally, I would have felt the urge to kick her ass, but since she was clearly very much infatuated with Bruce, I didn't think too much into her gaze. And yet, something about her, made me cringe—her laughing lips and sparkling eyes reminded me so much of Pixie, that just her mere glance at the Joker made me cringe inside.

"The pleasure is all mine," the Joker spoke finally, his voice light as he held out his hand for her to shake.

"I've heard much about you," she said with a small chuckle.

"Well of course," he responded seriously, and yet I could hear the smile in his voice. Bruce and I exchanged glances, but his eyes tried catching mine as soon as I let mine wander. When our eyes met again, I wondered why they burned so deeply into mine. I could only guess he had something to tell me—maybe it involved Selina, or maybe it involved the Joker.

"Giada, I'm heading up to the bar, care to join me?" Bruce asked finally. I glanced at the Joker and Selina, who were both engrossed in small talk conversation. I nodded my head to Bruce.

"Hey, I'm heading up to the bar. Join us if you like," I informed the Joker. He nodded, barely acknowledging me as he listened intently to Selina's soft garble. Bruce and I left the two of them and headed for the bar.

"Two shots of patron, please!" Bruce called out to the bartender. For a moment, Bruce and I were completely silent, avoiding each other's gazes. It wasn't until the arrival of our beloved tequila that we caught one another's eyes.

"Here's to friendship," Bruce said quickly, raising his shot in the air. I held my shot and paused before clanking his glass.

"Bruce, what's on your mind?" I asked sternly, knowing that something was eating away at my friend.

He shook his head, "toast with me first, please, Giada,"

I obliged and clanked his shot glass with mine. Together, we downed the patron and plunked out shot glasses back onto the bar.

"So, now tell me what's eating you?" I asked, leaning my arm on the bar. Bruce's eyes were dark and searching. He glanced in the direction of the Joker and Selina and then back at me, as if to make sure they were out of hearing range. The club was much too loud for them to hear us anyway—I could barely hear Bruce and he was right beside me!

"It's Selina," Bruce said finally, leaning in close to me.

"What about Selina?" I asked, hoping he'd uncover something exciting for me to hear.

"Giada, I've just me this woman, what, two weeks ago, and…well, I am just so drawn to her," Bruce explained. He seemed so sincere—it as incredibly sweet that he felt like that towards Selina. And yet, there was something about her that was different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but she struck a different chord with me. Perhaps Bruce was too love stricken to notice it.

"Well that's nice, Bruce. Does she fancy you?" I asked, trying to sound proper in my analysis of the situation. Bruce cracked a smile.

"I think she feels similar—although, now she's met the Joker, I'm not so sure," he chuckled, glancing back at Selina, still chatting up the Joker, who looked ever so bored.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about there," I laughed, noticing the Joker's expressionless face. I could only imagine the lack of excitement in his voice as he spoke to Selina about God knows what. I did hope that he would inform me of their conversation. Maybe the Joker felt something strange about Selina too—maybe he was confronting her about it.

I glanced past Bruce to where Selina and the Joker stood, but to my shock, they had disappeared. I caught eyes with Bruce, "They're gone!" I nodded my head for him to look behind him.

I could see the calmness drain from his face as he turned back towards me. His eyes filled with fear and anxiety for where his beloved Selina could have disappeared to with my beloved Joker.

"Bruce, if this woman steals the Joker from me, I'm going to go Medieval on her ass—just like I still have to do with Pixie—in fact, I'll kill them both at the same time for convenience!" I snapped, suddenly angry with the situation.

"Sh, Giada, it's okay. I'm sure it's nothing. They'll come back—and please don't kill anyone—or at least don't talk about it with me. You know where I stand on that, Giada. Talk to your Joker about that, not me," Bruce stated, a bit dejectedly. I frowned. Guilt suddenly crept into my stomach from out of nowhere. Bruce was such a dear friend to me. I hated causing him angst with my hatred for Pixie and now possibly Selina if she didn't return with the Joker soon. How did I become so jealous? I really needed to stop the jealousy. It was clear that the Joker could love me, but also very clear that he was not willing to accept something so promising.

"Bruce, when did I become such a jealous person?" I asked as a frown formed on my lips. Bruce shook his head and wrapped his arm about my shoulders.

"You're not a jealous person, Giada—you just…love …him, that's all. Love is a strong emotion and you've been waiting for so long to get the response from him that you want. Of course you're going to feel like this when he with other women, especially other women you aren't fond of," Bruce comforted me.

I nodded my head, trying to push Pixie from my mind and his dead love for her—love that he couldn't seem to find for me. It seemed hopeless—that I would forever live in her shadow. And now she was carrying his baby. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her as of late—maybe she's miscarried from all the drugs. Part of me hoped she did so that her child wouldn't be born into such a terrible life.

"Bruce! You did a shot of patron without me?!" Selina called to Bruce as she and the Joker walked up the stairs to the bar. Bruce's eyes immediately lit up as she approached, the Joker not far behind. I avoided his gaze as he came closer to me.

"Actually, shots of tequila are Giada's and my shot of choice when we go drinking," Bruce stated with a smile.

"That's okay—let's get a…shot of soco and lime," she suggested as she eyed the bartender's alcohol selection.

"Sounds good to me. Do you two want to do one with us?" Bruce asked the Joker and I.

"Oh Giada, let's! Soco and lime will be a nice…change…from tequila," the Joker giggled. I glanced at him and grinned.

"Sure, Bruce. Count us in," I replied, still grinning. Bruce ordered four southern comforts with lime.

The bartender poured the shots and placed them on the bar. We each picked up a glass and held it awkwardly in the air to see if someone would make a toast.

"To the mask," the Joker said finally, smirking at me. I grinned back at him and then over at Bruce, who half smiled back at me and then looked down. I glanced back at the Joker, who had just widely smiled at Selina.


	63. An Old Recurrence

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63. An Old Recurrence

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_Disclaimer: My love and gratitude to you all!!!!! There are no words…_

Bruce, Selina and the Joker gulped down their shots in an instant, but I was slow—delayed, I guess you could say. I had been staring at the Joker smiling at Selina after his toast. What the hell did he mean by "to the mask"?! Was this directed to me? Was it directed to Bruce? Did he know Bruce was Batman?! Was it directed to Selina? Did he know something about Selina that Bruce and I did not?

By the time I pondered each of these things, I realized I still had the shot in my hand and the others were in the middle of drinking theirs. I quickly threw back the shot and slammed it down on the bar and winced from the burn of the alcohol.

"Giada, a bit slow on that one, huh?" Bruce asked with a slight laugh. Selina and the Joker joined him in his laughter and I simply smiled. I glanced at the Joker and flashed him a glare. There was something he knew that he wasn't tell me and I was determined to find out. It had to be about Selina—I just knew it. I couldn't put my finger on it just yet, but I knew there was something strange about her. She reminded me too much of Pixie, and yet she didn't threaten me as much as I would expect from someone who resembled my arch-nemesis.

"So, Selina, what brings you to Gotham?" I asked finally, hoping to reveal some crucial bit of information.

"Well, I was offered a job in the marketing division at Kohn and Company, down on 45th and 2nd street. It was such an amazing offer I just couldn't pass it up! Then, one night when I was out with a couple of co-workers, I ran into Bruce here, and, well, we just hit it off," Selina responded with a smile as she gazed at Bruce.

"Oh how nice," I replied, returning her smile.

"What about you, Giada? Are you from Gotham?" she asked, tilting her head in wonderment.

I shook my head, "No. I'm from Boston. Bruce offered me a job at Wayne Enterprises about two or so years ago—that's how we met. Over my time spent in Gotham, I ran into the Joker a few times and that's how we met," I explained casually.

"Oh that's so wonderful," Selina commented. She smiled at me and then the Joker and then looked over at Bruce, "Bruce, I hate to do this, but it's getting quite late—I have to be in the office tomorrow at 8 am and don't want to be too hung over,"

She was so nice it wanted to kill me. I couldn't help but like her! She seemed genuinely interested in Bruce, and that made me so happy for him. Bruce smiled back at her.

"It's no problem. I can take you home," Bruce responded. Selina returned his smile and then turned to the Joker and me.

"It was so nice meeting the both of you. I know I'll see you around again," she stated with a grin.

"Definitely," I stood up as she did and gave her a friendly hug. She and the Joker waved and then they disappeared into the crowd. Once Bruce and Selina were finally out of our sight, I slowly turned to the Joker, a steady glare permeating into his eyes. He just met my eyes with his and smirked back at me.

"Giada, why so serious?" he asked, nonchalantly. I bit my bottom lip for a moment before speaking.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. She's very nice, isn't she?" I responded, holding my thoughts to myself. I didn't want to judge anything too soon. I decided in that moment that I would keep my suspicions to myself until the opportune moment. I needed to collect as much data as possible before accusing anyone of anything.

"Of course," the Joker replied, still grinning, "Another drink? Or should we make out…exit…too?"

"I think we can go too. I've had my fill of the Iceberg for one night," I responded. The Joker nodded and then led the way through the mass of people. When we finally arrived outside, he stopped suddenly and turned towards me, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"What is it?" I asked, startled by the look in his eyes.

"I…I'd like it if you came back with me," he spoke, somewhat anxious. I nodded my head in agreement, glad that he'd like to spend the night with me.

"Of course," I replied with a nervous smile. I knew there was more to this.

"I…will be a bit…late. I need to see…Pixie," he spoke, his voice sounding distant and cold. My heart instantly froze. I knew he hadn't seen her in a few weeks, so I couldn't blame him for this, but I still hated every minute of it. I nodded slowly in agreement once more.

"Okay. Do…you think she needs…me?" I asked slowly, unsure of whether I felt I was in helping sort of mood.

Immediately, the Joker shook his head, "No. No, not at all. Not until she's off cocaine and heroin,"

"She's still using?!" I exclaimed, "That baby is going to be born premature! You have to get her to stop using! Do you really want your baby to die?!"

He remained silent for a moment and then responded, "I want whatever is best for the…kid—alive or dead,"

I understood this mentality. I also somewhat hoped Pixie would miscarriage in order to spare the life of her innocent child from her and her miserable existence. I pursed my lips and nodded my head, "I understand," I said.

"Good. Then I'll see you later—unless I run into…Jade…before I get back," He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows.

Curious, I tilted my head and crossed my arms. What did he have in his mind? It was obvious to me that he was concocting something in that brain of his. I just nodded my head finally and smirked back at him.

"Okay,"

He and I parted ways. I made my way back to his apartment in record time. I was never fond of walking the streets of Gotham alone unless I was dressed as Jade. I just never felt comfortable unless I was in my makeup and with a knife or a gun. I was able to master the art of speed walking when I was just myself—Giada.

I sat up in the Joker's apartment. I sat on his bed and just thought through everything the night entailed. The Joker had hinted to me being Jade tonight. Maybe I should be. I had the urge. I was itching to paint my face and carrying knives and guns in my pockets. I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was only around midnight. The night was still young!

I had to do it. I had to paint my face and get out of there. I sprung up from the bed and stripped out of my clothes and changed into my Jade clothes. I always loved how I looked in black and red. Standing in front of the mirror in the Joker's room, I used his paint and smeared it all over my face. When my face was finally unrecognizable, I stared back at myself in the mirror. I felt a surge of adrenaline fill my body. It felt like such a long time since I'd seen my white face staring back at me. I couldn't wait to shimmy down the fire escape and make my way through the back alleys of Gotham.

I bolted from the bedroom, grabbed some weapons, and made my way to the pavement below. The instant my black boots touch ground, I felt energized. It seemed as though I had wings in my shoes, as I glided through the back alleys. I didn't know where I'd meet the Joker, but I just knew I would ultimately run into him. It was as though he were planning it all along.

It wasn't until I reached uptown that I heard sirens. From the looks of things, a local jewelers had been broken into by an unnamed robber. I observed the scene from a distant dark alley, afraid a cop would find me and suspect me for the crime. It appeared they had no lead—no criminal from their Gotham criminal list was fitting the crime scene investigation. They looked about as lost as a five year old in Disney World did after meeting Mickey Mouse for the first time.

I smiled to myself and slipped back into the darkness.

"Giada?" a low husky voice asked from the shadows. My eyes narrowed, trying to see the person in the darkness. I wandered closer to the voice.

"Batman?" I asked, as the outline of the bat mask became clearer to me.

"Jade, do you know who would have committed a robbery like that?" Batman asked me. I shook my head, but smiled.

"No, but I don't think the GPD have any idea either, so don't worry," I replied.

"It's so strange, Jade—they said there were scratch marks—as though it were some giant animal or something," Batman responded, confused by the whole situation.

"That _is_ pretty strange. I know it wasn't the Joker—he wears gloves," I joked, punching Bruce in the arm playfully. He let a smile escape his serious mouth.

"Well, I had been in the roof of the building over there when it happened and I could have sworn it was a woman…or something cat-like. I really am not sure. I couldn't follow it fast enough. I thought at first that maybe it was you—but only because you wear somewhat, tight clothing when you're out here at night. But looking at you now, it just doesn't fit. Your clothing isn't as tight as I first imagined," Batman explained in his deep raspy voice.

"Yeah, I'm sorry—I have no idea who would have done it…or looked like a cat…or a woman," I admitted.

"I'm going to keep searching. Let me know if you come across anyone of the sort, Giada," Batman stated.

"Of course, Bruce," I whispered back with a small smile. In an instant, he was gone. I always loved how Bruce could just disappear into the city right before my eyes. I wished I had the ability to do the same.

I decided to keep walking through the city. Maybe I would come across this jewel thief in the same way I'd stumbled across Pixie. She had just kind of appeared to me. I guess I had that kind of luck when it came to running into other thieves. I wanted nothing more than to run into my thief, my Joker. I just couldn't seem to wrap my head around the Joker visiting Pixie. I just needed her dead—to just stop existing. I knew it deep down inside that I would kill her eventually, but I also knew I couldn't kill her while pregnant. It just didn't sit well with me. At first, I would have had no problem killing her and her child with my love, but the more I thought it through, I just couldn't bring myself to shoot her, or cut her.

I guess I had been too lost in my thoughts to notice the trap sitting right in front of me. Stupid and unawares, I walked into the loop of the trap, it closed around my ankle and I was suddenly hoisted high into the air. I shrieked and squirmed.

"Let me down! Someone help me!" I shouted, forgetting I was Jade and in my criminal makeup and costume.

"Shh, be quiet! That trap wasn't for you!" the voice soothed, almost in a whisper.

"Who are you?! Let me down, please!" I demanded, more scared that angry. I had never been too fond of being upside down, especially floating in the air above pavement.

"Okay, I will, just stop screaming!" the voice reasoned. Slowly, I was lowered to the ground until I was able to brace myself with my palms to the ground, and ultimately, I ended on my back. A dark creature sprung to my feet and untied the rope from my ankle.

"Who…what are you?" I asked, rotating my ankle about to make sure it wasn't broken.

"I…I'm…Catwoman," the woman stated, wrapping the rope around her arm.

"Catwoman? Never heard of you. Are you new to Gotham?" I asked, slowly standing to my feet.

"I guess you could say that," she replied, almost smiling beneath her mask. She was taller than me by a few inches and wore black leather pants, a black corset, a black mask that covered her entire head like Bruce's.

"And who are you?" she asked finally.

"I'm Jade," I responded, placing my hands on my hips. She finally smiled and then held out her hand to me.

"Nice to meet you, Jade," Catwoman said, "And I'm sorry about the rope—it was for someone else,"

"Oh it's no problem—I feel that that kind of thing happens a lot in this city," I laughed.

"I can imagine—this city is just filled with criminals!" Catwoman laughed with me.

"If you don't mind my asking—who was the rope intended for?" I asked finally.

"Someone's been following me—some Bat," she responded curtly. She seemed truly agitated by this. My heart sank for Bruce, even though I knew he could probably take her if he knew where to find her. She would be no match for him.

"Oh, right, Batman," I replied with a nod of my head, "Yeah, just steer clear of him and you'll be fine. There's no point in trying to capture him,"

"Well, if someone is going to try and stop me, I have no other choice but to stop them," Catwoman retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

I nodded in agreement, "I guess so," I didn't really know what else to say. I couldn't give Bruce away, but I also didn't want to endanger him. And yet, there was something quite familiar about Catwoman—her laugh, her smile…

I almost gasped aloud.

"Well, I hate to cut this short, but I've really got to be meeting…a friend," I stumbled over my words.

"Of course. I'll see you around," Catwoman replied with a small smile. As soon as she turned her back to me, I ran from the alley. I couldn't believe it. I knew who she was, but I could never tell Bruce! It would just break his heart. I had to find the Joker.

I searched the entire city until I finally gave up and went back to his apartment. I climbed the fire escape and stumbled into his apartment, only to find him awaiting my return. His Glasgow grin was spread wide in a smile.

"I'm sorry—I thought you wanted me to meet you out there," I stated as I haphazardly removed my weapons from my overcoat and then tossed the coat onto the floor.

"Don't be sorry. I wasn't planning on meeting you. I was planning on you meeting someone else," he replied, still grinning. My eyes widened. He knew I would meet Catwoman. He knew I would figure out who she was too!

"You knew I'd meet Catwoman!" I exclaimed.

"Mhm,"

"You…you knew at the Iceberg that I knew there was something strange about Selina!" I exclaimed.

"Mmhm,"

"You knew that once I met Catwoman tonight that I would figure out Selina is Catwoman!" I exclaimed again.

"Mmm…hm," the Joker seemed bored by my logic. For us, something like this was getting old.

"You really get me hot when you do things like this," I stated finally, smiling back at him.

"There it is," the Joker grinned and then pulled me towards him.


	64. Words Unspoken

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64: Words Unspoken

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I am so sorry it has taken me forever to post—it is getting down to the wire here at school and I'm graduating come May (WOO!) so bear with me until summer because the posts will hopefully be more frequent! I love you all!!! So, the song used in this chapter is called "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" and it's by the Shirelles—I obviously do not own these lyrics or the song…considering I was not alive in the 1960s. Enjoy!_

I sat across from Dr. Crane that next day, barely listening to his ranting. My head was pounding from the night before and there was no way I was going to be able to take notes. Thank God for recording sessions!

"So basically, the drug I concocted can…" Dr. Crane droned on. I wished I had the Joker's knife so that I could end this miserable session.

"Well, Dr. Crane, that's…that's…great. You should mix me up a batch some time," I joked, trying to keep myself awake. Dr. Crane cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. Curiously, his lips broke into a smirk.

"Well, sugar, you know how to get me to do that for you," he winked at me. Dr. Crane had been developing a minor crush on me during the past few months. I spent most sessions deciding whether it was endearing or just creepy.

"Excuse me?! None of that, please, Dr. Crane. Please continue—sorry for the interruption," I spoke, and then removed the cap from my pen.

Dr. Crane just sat there, smiling back at me while I waited for him to continue with his boring analysis of chemical compounds. I enjoyed chemistry in nursing school, but I couldn't sit through another session with Dr. Crane explaining his molecular compounds. For a psychiatrist, he was brilliant, no doubt, but I just couldn't keep up with him sometimes. Part of me figured that he wasn't all too complicated a person, but for some reason, his good looks always got me screwed up in thought processes.

"So, tell me, Dr. DiMarco—how is the Joker?" Dr. Crane asked, still smirking.

"How would I know something like that? He escaped and I haven't heard anything about him since he was here in Arkham," I lied, hopefully convincingly.

"Ah, yes, but there are rumors that you helped get him out of here," Dr. Crane retorted, grinning widely.

"Dr. Crane, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but that rumor is untrue. The Joker escaped on his own—you know how he does those things. I'm actually surprised you've never tried escaping," I responded, with a slight coax.

Dr. Crane continued grinning back at me, but said nothing. His gaze was intense and made me uncomfortable. I shifted uneasily in my seat and averted my gaze.

"Dr. Crane, don't get any ideas. You're on a strict treatment regimen and I…I think we're making good progress," I stammered slightly. Thankfully, I glanced down at my watch, "Well, unfortunately, our time is out for today. I'll see you tomorrow,"

I rose from my chair and left the room. Outside, I called for an escort for Dr. Crane, and then made my way back to my office. Today was going to be a long day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

By the time my shift ended, I was practically dancing in my chair ready to leave. I jumped up from my desk, gathered my things and left my office so quickly that I barely noticed the note taped to my door. My eyes did a double-take and finally grabbed the note and opened it.

_Giada,_

_Formal banquet this evening at 9 at Il Soleil. Will be a live band. There may be some karaoke too! Hope to see you there._

_Your friend,_

_Bruce_

A formal banquet—I wondered what for? I couldn't be something Bruce was hosting, or else it would have been at the penthouse. I stuffed the note into my bag and made my way out of the asylum.

As I sat on the train, I pondered why Bruce couldn't have just called me to invite me. Perhaps he came by when I was with a patient—but still, a message would have been more informative! Who would be there? What would I wear? Did I have anything formal enough to wear to a formal banquet? I had never really been to a formal banquet that involved billionaires. They would all be wearing Dolce and Gabana and Gucci and Armani and I would walk in with my sale rack gown. It would be awful! I knew Bruce would never judge me, but I didn't know who else would be present at this ball thing.

When the train stopped at my station, I briskly walked off the train and immediately dialed Bruce. As I waited for him to pick up, I started my walk home.

"Giada?"

"Hey Bruce—what is this banquet thing tonight? How formal are we talking? I don't own anything Gucci," I chuckled, trying to make light of my dire situation.

Bruce chuckled back, "No worries—it's formal, but I'm sure you have something nice. You don't have to wear Gucci. I'm not hosting it—but I've been invited. I think the Joker's been invited as well,"

"Who's hosting it? The Joker? Really?" things were starting to look up for this evening.

"The Penguin," Bruce whispered.

"Why is the Penguin hosting a banquet?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"It's a networking banquet—supposedly. I can't know for sure. Of course I have to go. I need to know what's going on in this city as best I can,"

"How did I get an invite? And the Joker?" I asked.

"Well, the Joker is the top criminal in this city, so of course the Penguin is going to want him in on any business and networking that will go on this evening. I invited you as my guest…unless the Joker decides to take you as his," Bruce responded.

"I see. We he didn't say anything to me about this banquet last night…so I guess I'm going as your guest," I responded, a bit let down by the Joker's lack of an invite.

"Well, don't feel too bad—we just found out about this banquet this afternoon. The Penguin wanted to keep it as quiet as possible for as long as he could, but I guess he'd been planning it for quite some time. I think I got invited because I'm the philanthropist of the city—if any business deals are made or any networking made, then I'm key—but as Bruce Wayne, I won't be making any deals with criminals," he laughed.

"I hear ya—you'll just be the face and name at the big billionaire party. I'll be your no-so-hot date," I chuckled with him.

"Oh Giada, please—you know you're a beautiful woman. Any man would be lucky to have you—and if the Joker can't realize that, then he doesn't deserve you," Bruce retorted firmly.

"Aw Bruce. Well, I actually just got home—that gives me an hour and a half to get ready and get to Il Soleil,"

"Perfect! I can pick you up if you'd like,"

"Oh that's alright—part of me is hoping the Joker will take me…but I'll let you know if I need a ride," I responded.

"I'll send the limo for you both," Bruce stated. I loved him. He was such a great friend even though he hated the Joker. Though, part of me wondered if he still really hated the Joker or not.

"Thank you Bruce. I'll see you tonight,"

"See you," he hung up the phone and I slid mine shut. I rushed into my building and made my way up to my apartment as quickly as possible. Once inside, I threw my things onto the kitchen counter and ran into my room to find a dress. I shuffled through the clothes in my closet until I came across a formal dress I had bought back in college. I couldn't believe I had forgotten abou this dress! It was strapless, satin and tight fitting with some puckering and gathering of the material. It went down to just below my knees and was a bright, dark pink. It was absolutely perfect. I carefully placed it onto my bed and picked out a pair of silver dangly earrings. This was going to look incredibly elegant.

I jumped in and out of the shower, dried my curly hair and styled it as formally as possible. I wore it high up on my head with a few strands of curls hanging loosely about my face. I then applied makeup as tastefully as possible. After my dress, earrings and shoes were all on, I took a final look in the mirror. I cleaned up pretty well! My silver shoes were just perfect with the dress and the earrings. I was so excited to finally get the chance to dress up nice for an occasion, even if it was a bit of a shady occasion.

I glanced at the clock and saw that Bruce's limo would be picking me up soon. I gathered my things and placed them into my small silver clutch and made my way down to the street. Just as I emerged from the building, Bruce's limo pulled up. I couldn't expect anything better from Bruce. I expected Bruce to get out of the limo, but instead, Alfred emerged.

"Good evening, Ms. DiMarco," Alfred greeted me in his friendly British accent. I smiled at him.

"Good evening, Alfred—it's so good to see you!" I responded with a bright smile.

"Mr. Wayne had to arrive earlier to the banquet, but he wanted you to know that he is there and waiting for you. You do look wonderful, Giada," Alfred spoke serenely.

"Thank you, Alfred," I responded with an even brighter smile. I was eager to arrive and see Bruce—and the Joker.

The limo ride felt longer than it should have. Il Soleil was just a few blocks up from Wayne Enterprises, but the drive felt like an eternity. The traffic in Gotham was just horrendous that night, and I had no idea why. But as we pulled up to the fine dining and function hall, my heart began beating faster with anticipation. The limo stopped and a doorman, standing outside the function hall, approached the limo and opened the door for me. I slowly stepped out of the limo.

"Thank you Alfred—it was lovely seeing you again," I said as I exited the limo.

"Same to you, Giada," Alfred replied. I closed the door behind me and let the doorman escort me into the function hall. Once inside, he took my coat and then led me into the main dining room.

"I believe Mr. Wayne is waiting for you," the man stated.

"Thank you," I nodded to the gentleman.

Little to my knowledge, Bruce was sitting with the Joker—both of them at the bar, anxiously looking to the door for me. The band was playing old 60s music.

Bruce took another sip of his martini and continued scanning the room for me. Meanwhile, the Joker had already downed 5 martinis, 1 cosmopolitan and a long island iced tea.

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink? If she ever finds us, she won't even be able to breathe with that smell of alcohol lingering on your breath," Bruce muttered to the Joker.

"Maybe. But you'd be…intrigued to know that I'm not even drunk," the Joker grinned widely at Bruce before plucking an olive from one of his martini glasses. He popped it into his mouth and chewed wildly as he too searched the room for me.

"Oh! Mine," the Joker stated quickly as he jumped from his seat and made his way over to me. Bruce followed the Joker's gaze and stood to his feet and walked over to me as well.

"Yours," Bruce huffed beneath his breath and shook his head.

The Joker emerged from the crowd of billionaires and criminals wearing the dark blue suit with the lighter blue shirt I had first met him in back at the Wendy's—before I knew he was the Joker. His hair was haphazardly slicked back from his face, but was already beginning to fall and frame his jaw line. My stomach churned as he approached me. Every time I saw him, I fell in love again and again. It was like some sick game.

"Giada…you are…beautiful," he stated, his voice low, as he circled around me. I turned around so that I could face him. I couldn't help but smile. He reached out and let his hand slide down my side, "That dress…it's very…becoming on you,"

"Thank you," I flashed him a smile, part of me hoping he'd tell me he loved me.

"Well, Joker, I'd have to agree with you on this—Giada, you do look fantastic. I told you that you are a beautiful woman," Bruce complimented me.

"Aw, Bruce, stop it—you're making me blush," I smirked and embraced him in a hug, "Well, you look very nice in your…" I checked his label, "Versace tuxedo,"

Bruce smirked and then shrugged, "I'd say I'm sorry, but, this is the best tux I've ever worn. You try being a billionaire and _not_ wearing Versace! Oh, you know what? I'll take you shopping—it'll be on me. I'll pay for your first Versace item,"

I laughed, "It's okay Bruce, you can wear your Versace. I'll go with Armani, please," I winked at him playfully.

"I can't quite see you in Armani, Giada," the Joker stated finally. Bruce and I exchanged glances, both of us quite confused as to where this was going. You never really knew with the Joker.

"But I _can_ see you in Cartier," the Joker pulled out a diamond choker from the pocket of his jacket.

"You can't be serious," I managed to say, almost completely breathless as my wide eyes stared at the diamond necklace that he held up for me.

"Of course I can! Now turn around and let me put this on you or else I will drop it down the garbage disposal," the Joker explained, motioning for me to turn.

"You'd dispose of a Cartier necklace?" Bruce asked, crossing his arms over his chest. I think he was dubious it was real.

"Remember that time I burned over a million dollars?" the Joker asked Bruce, not taking his eyes from the back of my neck as he fastened the necklace. It was heavy and very, very real. I turned back towards Bruce and the Joker.

"Bruce, this necklace is the real thing," I said finally, "It's so heavy,"

Bruce took a closer look and then glanced back at the Joker, "How did you get this necklace?"

"How did I get these scars?" the Joker retorted with a grin that widened his Glasgow smile. Bruce just sighed and shook his head.

"Well, it is beautiful. You certainly gave it to the right person," Bruce stated, "Giada, I have people I need to greet. Maybe you should sing a song with the band—people have been doing that,"

I smiled, "I'll think about it,"

"At least get out there and dance," Bruce hinted, hoping for my sake, the Joker would dance with me a slow dance. Bruce disappeared and I was left alone with the Joker. We both stood there silently for a moment before I finally broke the silence.

"Thank you for the necklace. It really is beautiful,"

"A dance?" he asked, almost awkwardly, as though we had never danced before this moment. I smiled and nodded. I took his hand and together we made our way out onto the dance floor just as the song "Maybe" by the Chantels began. I loved that song!

He held me close to him and held my right hand gently in his left. I rested my head down on his chest, just under his chin as we swayed and glided about the dance floor. I didn't even worry that I may have white paint in my hair after the dance.

"It needed a suitable home," he spoke finally.

"Huh?" I asked, lifting my head, searching for his eyes with him. He looked down at me.

"The necklace—it needed a suitable home. Someone as…breathtaking…as it," There was something in his eyes that was sincere as he spoke. He wasn't in love with me, but was it possible that he could have love in his eyes? I could swear that he loved me, but so many other moments would point against this fact—and yet, there we were, dancing romantically after he had just given me a Cartier diamond choker. I didn't understand him and I didn't understand us.

"Say something, Giada, please," he crooned. This was so unlike him! Was he drunk?

"Are you drunk?" I asked, unable to find any other phrase or set of words. I was taken aback by the whole moment, completely overwhelmed by him.

He laughed, "Hardly! Though your friend Bruce would believe otherwise,"

"How much did you drink?" I asked.

"Let's see…I had…5 martinis, a long island and a cosmo," he responded, looking upwards as he recalled the beverage list.

"Five martinis!? I'd be rolling on the floor with five martinis!" I exclaimed, laughing, because he really wasn't drunk.

"Let's test that tonight," he grinned.

"You don't need martinis in me to get me rolling on the floor with you," I replied seductively as I winked at him.

"That's true—but we all need a certain…amount…of a substance to get us to do things we wouldn't otherwise do," the Joker explained, staring intently into my eyes as he licked his lips.

"Well that's you. Watch—I'll get up there and sing a song and I'm completely sober!" I coaxed. The song had ended minutes ago, so now was as good a time as any. He raised his eyebrows and gestured for me to go to the stage.

"Be my guest," the Joker replied.

"I will," I then made my way up to the stage and requested to sing a song.

I chose to sing a song that explained my feelings for the Joker. I knew that he would understand it without me having to explain. We just clicked like that.

I stepped up onto the stage and held the microphone up to my mouth as the band began to play.

I sang into the mike as Bruce and the Joker both watched me from the bar:

_Tonight you're mine, completely_

_You give your love so sweetly_

_Tonight the light of love is in your eyes,_

_But will you love me, tomorrow?_

_Is this lasting treasure?_

_Or just a moment's pleasure?_

_Can I believe the magic of your sigh?_

_Will you still love me tomorrow?_

_Tonight with words unspoken_

_You say that I'm the only one_

_But will my heart be broken_

_When the night meets the morning sun? _

_I'd like to know your love_

_Is a love I can be sure of_

My heart was beating so fast by this point, I thought it was going to jump out of my chest, only because by this point, the Joker was staring to intensely at me I could almost feel the burn from his eyes.

_So tell me now, and I won't ask again,_

_Will you still love me tomorrow? _

The crowd applauded for me as I finished. I bowed and then stepped down from the stage and made my way over to the bar. Bruce and the Joker had both stood to their feet and were clapping for me.

"See Giada! You can sing well! And everyone loved you!" Bruce exclaimed as he hugged me.

"Martini?" The Joker held up a full glass to me. I forced a smile.

"Sure—but only if you have one too," I responded, taking the glass from him.

"Yes. Yes I will," he said firmly, staring hard into my eyes.


	65. Old Friend

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65. Old Friend

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_Disclaimer: I want to apologize, first and foremost for my immense lacking in updates! Life has been crazy since graduating from college! I am taking classes this summer that began the day after graduation (anatomy and physiology basically owns my life!) but I am going to try and update a bit more frequently! Thank you all so much for putting up with this! You are all incredible!_

The Joker and I meandered over to the bar to get him another martini—his 6th martini of the night. I couldn't believe he wasn't even close to drunk—either that, or he was ridiculously good at hiding his state of consciousness. I guessed it was something I couldn't entirely rule out, considering it was…the Joker.

"Can we have another martini please?" I asked the bartender.

"Make that a dirty martini," the Joker quickly chimed. The bartender simply nodded and commenced to making the tasty beverage. Meanwhile, the Joker and I stood against the bar, silently awaiting the arrival of his drink. My eyes casually scanned the room for any familiar faces, other than Bruce's. I thought for certain Selina would be present at this such an event—perhaps she would make her presence known later on in the evening. I even found it difficult in locating the Penguin, who had thrown this formal shin-dig into action. Surely he would have greeted me by now!

"One dirty martini," the bartender spoke, placing the delicate glass between the Joker and me. The Joker flashed him a toothy grin and slipped him what appeared to be a generous tip. The bartender hesitantly took the cash and retreated to his next customer, knowing it best not to ask questions. The Joker finally turned to me and held up his murky glass.

"To an evening different from all others," he toasted, grinning widely at me. A smile returned to my lips as I held my glass to his.

"To an evening different from all others," I echoed him, clanking our glasses. I took a sip and placed my glass back down onto the bar, while the Joker finished off his martini in one gulp. I stared at him in disbelief.

"You are aware that you're drinking alcohol, right? And not water?" I chuckled, once he placed his empty glass down on the bar. He licked his lips and shook his head.

"I've always had an affinity for things I cannot taste," he commented, smirking. My eyes narrowed at him in skepticism.

"You mean to tell me you can't taste alcohol?!" I asked, dubiously. The Joker simply giggled and then outreached his gloved hands towards mine.

"My dear Giada…you mustn't interpret so literally…all the time. It makes for errors in judgment," he explained slowly and deliberately, almost serious. The grip on my hands tightened slightly, then released as he placed one of his hands into his pocket, and raised his other arm against the bar.

"Fair enough," I stated, biting my lower lip as I let my eyes scan the room once more, this time searching for Bruce and with whom he may be conversing. As I lost myself in the crowd, I suddenly became aware of the Joker's gaze, heavily piercing through me.

"You look so…serious, Giada. How about another drink?" he asked suddenly as he moved in close to me, brushing away some of my hair with his hand. The stench of alcohol from his breath was pungent and grossly apparent as he whispered into my ear.

I glanced over at the bar where my martini had been placed, "I hadn't even finished the first," I stated, wondering where it had disappeared to.

"Oh, I drank than when you were lost in your gazes," the Joker said, "but I'll order you another. Any preferences?"

"A rum and coke would be nice," I just managed to get the words out when I finally noticed a familiar blonde woman in the crowd of formally dressed guests. "I'll be right back," I said as I started moving away from the bar, my eyes fixated on the woman. The Joker's darkly gloved hand quickly met my arm, preventing me from moving any further.

"Where are you going?" he asked, almost angrily. His eyes widened and his lips narrowed as his grip on my arm tightened.

"First of all, this is supposed to be a nice evening, so I would suggest you remove your hand from my arm unless you are going to be romantically stroking it in a caressing gesture. Second of all, I see someone I recognize and I would like to go and see if it is the person I think it is," I responded in a low, but firm voice, not once taking my eyes from his. The Joker paused for a moment, breathed loudly through his nose and released me from his grasp. "And thirdly, if you ever grab me like that again, I'll kick my foot so far up your ass, my heel will clean out your nasal passageways," and with that final comment, I strode off into the crowd towards the blonde woman who I could only suspect was Selina Kyle.

The Joker, stunned and slightly aroused by my command, turned his gaze to me as I left the bar. He, too, spotted the blonde woman and decided to take off after me.

"Giada, wait!" the Joker briskly made his way towards me. He reached out and grabbed my hand. I spun around and pursed my lips.

"What is it?" I asked, slightly agitated. The Joker licked his lips and leaned in close to me. He knew all too well, the hearing capacities of the guests in this room.

"I know you think that blonde woman is…well…you know—but I assure you, Giada, she is not," the Joker said softly into my ear. I turned my head curiously so that our eyes could meet.

"How do you know?" I asked, truly puzzled by how he could tell who this woman was from such a distance.

"Selina Kyle is not here yet until…midnight or so—that is what I heard from your dear friend Bruce. I think the bar is…calling your name, Giada. Howwww many drinks have you had?" he asked, licking his lips and raising his eyebrows in his typical Joker-fashion. I sighed and shook my head, letting loose a small smile. I looked back up at him, still smiling.

"Not even one,"

"Have a…few more—_then_ we can…search the guests," the Joker winked at me and then raised his eyebrows suggestively. I let out a small laugh as he led me back to the bar where, strangely enough, a rum and coke was waiting for me.

Needless to say, the Joker's power over me was strong that evening—or at the bar. Four rum and cokes later, I was loosened up, speaking my mind (more so than usual) and ready for a romp with the Joker—but of course that would have to be later.

"One more rum and coke," the Joker urged me. He could see how glassy my eyes looked, and yet he still insisted I have one more!

"No, I cannot! It will push me over the edge!" I exclaimed, slamming my fist down onto the bar. The Joker rolled his eyes and ordered me another rum and coke.

"Stay here a minute—I'll be back in just…a moment," the Joker said finally, once my beverage arrived.

"What?! Where are you going?" I asked, grabbing his hand, like he had done so to me earlier. He grinned at me and plucked away at my fingers which loosely held onto his hand in what I had thought was a grasp.

"Bathroom," he lied as he pushed his way through the crowd of tipsy guests. I turned around and sipped on my drink, weary that some two-time mobster was about to sit next to me and slip a roofie into my drink.

"All alone? Where'd your date go?" Bruce asked as he slipped in next to me at the bar. I turned and smiled at him.

"Looks like he's right here…though he left me quite some time ago to mingle with gangsters dressed in Gucci," I teased, elbowing him lightly on the arm. Bruce smiled and ordered himself drink.

"Not much has happened so far, but I'm assuming things will pick up later on, as far as deals and networking goes," Bruce stated quietly to me.

"So how late do you plan on staying here?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

"As long as I need to be," Bruce explained, taking a swig of beer. "But in all seriousness, where'd the Joker head off to? He just left you here?"

"Bruce, it's okay. He went to the bathroom—which is not a place I'd like to join him," I chuckled, then averting my gaze quickly into the crowd.

"He did? I just came from the bathroom—I didn't see him go in there," Bruce stated curiously. He and I exchanged glances of concern as we placed our drinks down on the bar and turned our gazes back to the crowd.

"I think I see him," Bruce said as he stood to his feet.

"Where?" I asked, standing to mine, and then hoisting myself up a bit on the bar to get a better view of the crowd.

"Over there—talking to that blonde woman," Bruce said softly into my ear. I glanced in the direction of his gaze and saw that it was the woman I had initially wanted to seek out before my five rum and cokes.

"That woman! She looks so familiar! I was going to go talk to her earlier but the Joker convinced me to have a couple rum and coke's first," I stated, irritated.

Bruce leaned closer to me and wrinkled his face, "Whew, how many did you have?" he asked.

"Five," I muttered, as I began making my way into the crowd. Bruce followed me close behind as I weaved and meandered in and out of the crowd until I finally caught sight of the Joker and the blonde.

"Oh HELL NO," I said angrily as I turned to Bruce. Bruce stood beside me and took my hand in his.

"Be calm,"

"Looks like we're having a little visit from an old friend," I retorted back at Bruce.

"Giada, please, just stay calm," Bruce urged.

"Come with me," I said firmly to him. He had no choice in the matter. I dragged him next to me until the Joker and the blonde were in close proximity.

"PIXIE!" I hollered at them. The Joker and Pixie turned in my direction. So to avoid a scene of anger, I approached her and hugged her, as though I couldn't wait to see her.

"Soo good to see you! Look at your belly! You must be close to the due date by now," I said, clenching my teeth.

"No need for show, Giada. You hate me and I hate you," Pixie sneered, placing her hands on her once very apparent hips.

"Yes, well the difference between us is that I don't care to cause a scene here at such a lovely function with such formal guests," I responded with a wide, fake smile.

"You do realize everyone here is a criminal of some sort, don't you?" Pixie asked.

"With the exception of some billionaire philanthropists," I slurred, suddenly very aware of my drunken consciousness, as I haphazardly gestured to Bruce. Bruce simply smiled and nodded his head.

"Well, it is good to know you made the effort to come to the gathering this evening, Pixie—especially when you are willing to put your own needs before those of the unborn baby you carry inside that God-forsaken womb of yours," I stated.

"You filthy bitch," Pixie scorned, almost ready to pounce.

"_I'm_ a filthy bitch? I'm not the one currently pregnant and using illicit drugs," I nonchalantly commented, "I mean, what do you think, Joker?"

"You leave him out of this, whore," Pixie said with a crude tone.

"You're right. I think we should leave him out of this too, but unfortunately, the man I'm currently in love with just so happened to impregnate you. Believe me, Pixie, if you and I could leave him out of this, I would. In fact, if I could leave _you_ out of my life too, that would be optimal—buuuuuuut I can't! So let's make do with what we've been given: a pregnant, drug addicted criminal who lost her chance with an allegedly psychotic killer clown who doesn't even have the capacity to love any more than you do! You know what?! From the looks of things, we're all just wasting our time here! _You're_ wasting your time being pregnant, because that baby is probably going to die; _Bruce_ is wasting his time here because he is so much better than this; _the Joker's_ wasting _his_ time because he very well knows that you and I are not with his time; and _I_ am wasting _my_ time and energy loving someone in hopes that they will love me back! SO what have we all learned here tonight? Let's not waste time!" I exclaimed, nearly out of breath and my heart pounding inside of my chest.

I don't even think I was completely aware of the things I was saying, mostly because I had used the words "love" and "hope" and "love me back" in front of the Joker. It was clear to all of us how I felt about him. There was no hiding it any longer, except for the fact that I knew I would have to suppress the feeling for a long as I was associated with the Joker. Bruce put his arm around me and stroked my arm gently.

"I think you need some water and something to eat, Giada," Bruce soothed me.

"Food? You think I need food? I think I need a gun so I can shoot the bitch!" I exclaimed again, throwing his arm off of me.

"A gun to shoot _me_?! I need a bullet to go through that idiot head of _yours_!" Pixie squealed at me, ready to lunge.

"My idiot head?! How many degrees do you have, Pixie? I have a BS, an MS, an RN, BSN and an NP! AND I'm not addicted to drugs!" I retorted back, suddenly aware that other guests were around and I didn't want to cause too much of a scene. Thankfully it was loud and the band was playing—no one seemed to notice our distress; either that, or it was expected and respectfully ignored.

"Oh, but I have the one thing you want in life—a baby growing inside of me fathered by the man you supposedly love," Pixie spat back at me. My blood was fuming, and Bruce knew this. He calmly placed his arm about my shoulders again and whispered into my ear.

"Giada, he doesn't love her—you know better than she that he probably loves you," Bruce spoke softly.

"Oh, right, and he also asked me to marry him. I don't suppose you were ever engaged to the Joker," Pixie continued probing.

"No. I haven't and I don't suppose I ever will. But you made the mistake of breaking it off—a mistake I would never make. Take care," I stated firmly, and with Bruce, made my way through the crowd, as far away from the two of them as possible.


	66. Welcome, Braidon

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66. Welcome, Braidon

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all who read and reviewed!!! You are amazing!!!!_

Pixie, clearly flustered and red in the face turned towards the Joker in complete and utter agitation.

"I can't believe that slut. She comes here, uninvited to this ball—is she a criminal? Is she a therapist? Who the fuck knows?! And she has the _audacity_ to tell me I'm a filthy whore?! I sure as hell hope you cut the shit out of her face so I don't have to see her and that pretty little smirk of hers ever again," Pixie fumed as her piercing blue eyes burned into the Joker's dark brown gaze. He simply slid his tongue over his scarred lips, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a mini quiche off the serving tray of one of the waiters walking past Pixie and him.

"Tell me you _are _going to do something," Pixie insisted, staring heavily at him while popped the quiche into his mouth and began chewing wildly. His eyebrows slightly elevated while he munched, swallowed and then took in a deep breath.

"You leave me in…quite…the situation here, Pixie," the Joker stated finally, averting his eyes from her and scanning the crowd, mostly likely in search of Bruce and me.

"And what kind of situation is that?" she asked haughtily, crossing her arms above her bulging stomach. She bit her bottom lip profusely, while she awaited his response. The Joker sighed agitatedly as he rolled his eyes and tongued the scars from within his mouth. Ever so slightly, he inched closer towards her until he could smell her heavily perfumed stench, in a sad attempt at covering up the bitter alkaline stench of the drugs.

Licking his lips outwardly, he finally responded in a low, dark tone, "I've associated myself with you mistakenly in the…pasttt. And, seeing as how you allegedly _know_ me," like a magician, his switch blade nearly just appeared in his right hand as he clandestinely slid it next to her jugular vein, but made himself appear as though he were brushing her hair from her face, "you should know by now that I _do not_ take lightly to…demandsss—least of all from you. I have always and will continue to…always…command _myself_. In-def-in-ite-ly,"

Pixie swallowed hard, trying to remain as still as possible, lest the blade cut through her jugular. She could feel the heat of her anger building up inside and beginning to turn to sweat, not only for the Joker, but for me as well. She pursed her lips, glanced down at the Joker's steady hand at her throat and then shifted her intense gaze back up at him.

"Do what you will—but if I see her again, _I'll_ cut her face if you won't," Pixie sneered.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the function hall, Bruce and I sat idly at a vacant table, casually sipping on some champagne.

"I just can't believe him, Bruce. He just stood there not saying a word while I endless poured out my heart to Pixie! I can't believe I did that. I really should probably just go home," I sighed as I ran my finger tips lightly along the stem of the champagne glass. Bruce's lips curled into a small smile as his hand reached out for mine.

"Giada, if the Joker didn't know by now that that was how you felt about him, then he clearly has no business associating with you anyways!" Bruce let out a slight laugh, trying to lift my spirits. I smiled back and returned a similar chortle. I knew he was right. By now, there was no possible way the Joker couldn't have known about my feelings for him.

"I guess I'm just pissed at myself for shouting it at Pixie. I wish I could have just told _him_ how I felt, rather than letting Pixie hear it. I hate her enough as it is—but having her throw all her past bullshit on me like that only added to my fuming bonfire of angst towards her," I explained, finally lifting my glass and then taking a sip from the bubbling gold liquid. Bruce let out a small sigh and shifted his gaze to the dance floor and the band playing oldies.

"How about a dance?" Bruce asked finally, again trying to raise my mood. I glanced up at him and smiled.

"I don't know if I feel up to it, Bruce, honestly…"

"Please—just one dance. After one dance, if you're not feeling any happier, I'll be more than glad to take you home," Bruce explained. He stood to his feet and held out his hand for me to take. I hesitated for a moment, but then slowly took his hand as I rose from my seat.

Bruce twirled me out to the dance floor where so many other couples, billionaires, criminals and politicians danced the night away with their significant others or dates of the night. It was such a strange gathering that I had really no idea what a mixed group of people like this were doing with each other. I wondered how many of the politicians knew they were dancing around Gotham's finest criminals; or if the billionaires knew that their money was going to corrupt government programs; or if Bruce was getting all the information he needed as Batman.

"You're thinking too much—relax and enjoy yourself, Giada. You deserve it," Bruce whispered into my ear, taking notice to my absence of self as we danced. I peered up at him and smiled. He knew me too well.

"Are you getting a lot of information from the criminals?" I whispered back to him, careful not to whisper too auspiciously.

"I'm finding out things I didn't know before, which is a good thing," Bruce retorted back with a positive smile.

"Good!" I responded happily as he twirled me around in a circle and then pulled me back close to him. As soon as our bodies touched and as Bruce held me close to him, my mind immediately raced towards the Joker. I wished in that moment, as much as I cared for Bruce as my best friend, that he was the Joker holding me that close. I nonchalantly tilted my head in the direction Pixie and the Joker had been in an attempt at getting a glimpse at him, but it was near impossible with the crowd on the dance floor. Suddenly, I felt Bruce's face directly next to mine, his cheek gliding so close that I could feel the heat from his skin.

"Looks like someone wants to see you," Bruce whispered as he turned me around in a dance-like spin so that I was facing the Joker. He stood casually on the dance floor with a blank expression on his painted face. I still wasn't sure as to why he even painted his face for this event, but I chose not to ask questions. I stopped dancing with Bruce and just stood still on the dance floor, my eyes locked with his and neither of us moving. Bruce's hand still lingered on the small of my back and then out of my peripheral gaze, I thought I saw another familiar woman. It was in that same instance Bruce's hand left my back. I turned my head to see him turn towards to woman too. That was when we heard the screams and people yelling.

"Is there a doctor in the house?!" someone screamed. It sounded so cliché—like something you hear out of the movies. There was a crowd gathering around someone on the other side of the dance floor. I didn't see anyone else running over to the crowd, so I figured I was the only medically trained professional present. Bruce and the Joker both flashed me equally different looks: Bruce's was one of _go save this person_ and the Joker's was more of tested amusement, _finally something exciting is happening_! Without a second thought, I rushed through the crowd with the Joker and Bruce not far behind me, and the familiar woman behind Bruce. Selina Kyle had finally made her presence known at the ball. She took Bruce's hand, alerting him she was finally there, and a look of pure relief spread across his face as their gazes met.

I turned back to the crowd "I'm a nurse practitioner! What's going on here?" I shouted as loudly as I could, shoving my way through the billionaires, criminals and politicians until I finally got to the clearing. I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating in that moment. Either that or it had sunken so far down into my stomach that my stomach decided to digest it.

Pixie was curled up on the floor lying in a pool of amniotic fluid, writhing in pain. She was in labour. Pixie was in labour and there as a good possibility she would deliver that baby here on the dance floor. I felt Bruce's strong hand on my shoulder for reassurance in that one grasp of strength, I took in a deep breath and decided I would help her. I immediately crouched down to my knees.

"Give us room, people—and a little privacy here!" I shouted at the crowd and then glared back at Pixie, "Pixie, I'm going to need to remove your bottom clothing—I need to check and see how dilated you are,"

"Oh hell no, bitch! You are not going anywhere near me down there!" Pixie screamed.

"This is the only way! There's still a chance we can call the ambulance and they can get you to the hospital before this baby comes—but if you're too dilated, I'm going to have to deliver this baby here," I explained to her curtly.

"Someone call the ambulance!" I called out behind me. Bruce already had his phone up to his ear, dialing. Without regard for Pixie, I removed her wet bottoms and underwear and tossed them aside. As soon as she spread her legs, I knew it was going to be too late. There was no need for me to even check to see if she was dilated. Pixie screamed in pain as her contraction lead to the crowning of her premature baby.

"Okay Pixie, you're crowning here—you need to keep your legs spread and I need you to push!" I instructed her as I gently placed my hand on the baby's head. Pixie hurled out a blood curdling yell as she pushed with all her might. Luckily, or unluckily, the baby was very small as it slowly emerged.

"The ambulance is on its way, Giada," Bruce called over to me. While I heard that good news, I had to keep focused. As the baby's head emerged, I gently guided it out, followed by the baby's shoulders.

"Keep breathing Pixie, you're good great!" I instructed as the baby finally emerged entirely. I quickly wiped away any remaining fluid and mucous from the baby's nose, eyes and mouth. Bruce handed me a cloth napkin from one of the tables and wrapped the tiny baby in the napkin. It couldn't have been any larger than 3 1/2 lbs. Not quite a preemie, but close enough. I glanced up at Pixie, who had fallen nearly comatose into a state of unconsciousness. Either she passed out from the pain, or she was literally that tired from labour. I knew she couldn't stay asleep for long—the placenta would be emerging shortly. Still holding the tiny baby, I turned towards the Joker and looked up at him. He shook his head from side to side. It was clear he didn't want the crowd knowing the baby was his. I couldn't decide in that moment if that was necessarily a good or bad thing of him to do.

"Pixie, you need to stay with me here," I said, slapping her on the face to wake her up. As she came to, I placed the baby to her chest and told her to keep her legs open for the placenta.

"You mean it's not over yet?!" she shrieked, her voice so shrill with anger that she made the baby cry. It was as though her angst started the placental birth. It quite quickly emerged.

"Push, Pixie! It's almost out," I exclaimed, as I directed the placenta out of her and placed it on the floor next to her and the baby. I didn't have the proper tools to cut the umbilical or placental cords.

"EMT's! Where's the emergency?!" one of the EMTs called through the whispering crowd from the door way.

"Over here! We have a white female here, late twenties who just gave birth to a baby boy. Placenta and umbilical cord both in tact. Baby looks like it may need some time in the NICU," I instructed the EMTs. And with that, I was off my knees, covered in amniotic fluid and backing away from the whole scene. My job was done.

"You did a good thing, Giada," Bruce said to me as I brushed by him.

"I didn't know she was going to be here," Selina said, nearly astonished as she gazed at Pixie, who was still on the ground being treated by the EMTs.

I hastily made my way to the bathroom where I promptly scrubbed my hands in an attempt at getting any internal remnants of that bitch Pixie from my skin. I was enormously dismayed that the amniotic fluid managed to find its way to my favorite dress. Feeling dejected and exhausted, I sat down in the bathroom at the powdering-of-the-nose station, where I lay my head down into my hands. Silently, the Joker crept up behind me and placed his gloved hand on my bare shoulder. Startled, I jerked my head up and saw him standing there.

"What are you doing in here?!" I exclaimed, half annoyed, half excited. He grinned and then licked his lips.

"You know, in some countries, they eat placenta," he stated, matter-of-factly. I raised a curious eyebrow at him, but couldn't help but crack a smile. It was the strangest thing he could have said in that moment, but it was perfect. I turned my head back towards the mirror and gaze up at him through the mirror.

"So what are you going to name him?" I asked, trying not to seem too solemn that the love of my life just had a baby with my worst enemy.

"You think I've been conjuring up names, Giada? Really?" he asked, licking the inside of his mouth, feeling around at the scars.

"Well, I guess I figured since you were somewhat involved in this whole thing that maybe you had a name in mind," I responded flatly and changing my gaze from him down to the counter.

"I suppose if I had to pick a name, it would be…Giada for a girl…and…Jack for a boy," the Joker responded with a sly grin. I peered up at him in the mirror once more.

"Well, it's not a girl…so that rules out Giada. I guess Jack it is…named for you, I guess," I responded.

"Uh, I'm thinking…no. Why don't you pick a name," the Joker coaxed.

"Don't even test me, Joker. This is your kid with Pixie—I'm not coming up with the baby's name," I retorted curtly.

"I think it would be…more fitting…if _you_ named the baby. Pixie hates you, and will probably be a terrible…mother…it's only sane for you to name him," the Joker tongued at his latent scars once more, edging me with his deep gaze to come up with a name.

"Well, if it were my baby, I'd name him something Italian, like Alessandro, or Giacomo, or Vincenzo," I explained, "but I guess if you wanted a non-Italian name…I don't know, maybe Braidon would be befitting for him?" I asked.

"Braidon. That's…interestingggg," he purred, reaching his hand down and stroking my shoulder. We both sat in silence for a moment, pondering the name and the circumstances at hand. I couldn't believe Pixie now had living proof of her union with the Joker. I only wished it could have been me giving birth to his son or daughter. The mere thought made my blood boil. Suddenly, my eyes flew upward at him.

"He's not _our_ son," I snapped at him, stood to my feet and stormed out of the bathroom, leaving him to his thoughts—whatever they were.


	67. This Time Around

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67. This Time Around

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_Disclaimer: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I can never say it enough—you are all so amazing!!!!!!! The title is my mini tribute to MJ—RIP (good song, check it out if you like MJ!)The songs used in this chapter were used in previous chapters—they are obviously not mine. They belong to Heart, Muse, and the Chantels. Enjoy!_

Much to my surprise, the bathroom door didn't slam shut behind me. The rhythmic tapping of shoes running on marble tiling followed close behind, sequenced by the thud of the heavy bathroom door on the flat of the palm of hands.

"Giada, wait!" the Joker called after me, his voice high and slightly frantic. His hand reached out and grabbed hold of my wrist. I froze in my step and spun around to face him.

"What? I'm really not in the mood to chat," I stated curtly, yanking my wrist from his grasp. I think whatever kind of remorse he had felt up to that moment for what I had endured that evening disappeared with my snatching of my wrist. His brows furrowed as his deep eyes glared back at me.

"First off, _no one_ walks away from me," he sneered, as he sauntered closer to me. I took a step back from him, glaring hard into his peering eyes.

"Well, _I_ do," I stated firmly, and turned to walk away once more, until his hand snatched my wrist again. This time, he spun me backwards into the wall and held me there for a moment, while his tongue edged the inside of his mouth.

"Giadaaaa, I _hate it_ when…people…walk away from me; when they just turn...and leave. I suppose I expect it from low and mid-level criminals in this city. But there are two…individuals…I do not expect it from: the Batman, and you," the Joker explained, his voice low and grumbling as he spoke directly into my ear. I squirmed in his firm grasp, unable to free myself from being pinned between him and the wall—not really a situation I ever thought I'd want to free myself from, except this. It seemed the more I squirmed, the tighter his grip became, and it was in that moment I realized that I knew he would stop holding me I ceased to move. I knew him. I knew his thought process.

I stood still and just as I suspected, his grip on me loosened and he took a small step back from me. His eyes were still dark and harsh as they bore into mine, but I kept a firm glare in return, my face unwavering.

"I don't appreciate this—I just delivered your son from a woman I despise. The least you can do for me is let me go and find Bruce. I just want to go home," I explained calmly, but sternly. The Joker's gaze softened immediately and his tongue found the edge of his lower lip. He finally stood off to the side of me and gestured for me to take my leave with his left hand. Not taking my eyes from him, I hoisted myself away from the wall and began making my way into the ignorant crowd.

"So the rumors are true, Dr. DiMarco," a familiar voice chimed into my ear from just behind me. I spun around to find Dr. Crane, finely dressed and sipping on a martini.

"Dr. Crane? How did you get here? You're supposed to be in Arkham!" I exclaimed, suddenly my heart racing.

"First of all, call me Jonathan. Second of all, you are much more beautiful when you're not working in Arkham. And third of all, it appears that the rumors are in fact true," Dr. Crane mused as he walked closer towards me. He took another sip of his martini and grinned back at me. My eyes narrowed in disbelief. I had never anticipated this moment in a million years.

"I have to say, regardless of how you escaped from the asylum, I do not feel comfortable conversing with you outside of a therapeutic setting," I stated finally, gaining control over my ethical self. I nodded to him and turned to leave once again. All I wanted to do was to find Bruce and get the hell out of this place! It was slowly turning into my worst nightmare. Actually, I think it already was my worst nightmare.

Dr. Crane ran after me and stood in front of me so that I could not walk any further, "Giada, you know very well that's not true. You're no longer my psych nurse. I just had no idea that you were _this_ kind of person. There I was, back in Arkham, thinking this whole time what a sweet and innocent woman you are—and then I escape and find you here with the likes of these people. You've certainly confirmed everything I'd heard about you while in the asylum," he smirked at me and winked.

Irritated, I released a sigh and rolled my eyes, "Try me. What did you hear and what do you believe to be true? What rumor are you claiming that I confirmed?"

Dr. Crane's eyes darted about the room, and before he spoke, he took another step closer to me, "You're the Joker's Jade," his voice was low and soft as he spoke into my ear. My heart sank. He did know. I had to deny this.

"The Joker's Jade?" I chortled, "Where on Earth did you hear that?" I tried remaining calm. I did not want Dr. Crane to know I was in cahoots with the Joker—that I was in love with him—that I helped him escape from Arkham.

"Sorry—you're the Joker's Jade from the Joker's Wild," Dr. Crane clarified, "I know this to be true. I had a background check on you done—you're from Boston—the daughter of Italian parents. Mother divorced from your father. Your mother got remarried to an abusive Italian man. You got a job stripping at the Joker's Wild—your name was Jade," Dr. Crane explained to me. My face must've turned ghostly white, because I actually felt the blood drain from it as he told me my own past. There was no denying that I had been a stripper at the Joker's Wild.

"Okay, so you know my past. Big deal. We all have skeletons in the closet, don't we?" I asked, cross my arms across my chest, "I don't still strip as the Joker's Jade,"

"No—but I just saw you and the Joker consorting over there—looks like the other rumors were confirmed there too," Dr. Crane responded smugly.

"What rumor?! I have nothing to do with the Joker!" I protested, angrily at this point.

"There were rumors going around that you helped the Joker escape from Arkham—that you and the Joker are working together," Dr. Crane explained, taking a nonchalant sip from his martini.

I shook my head, "No way. The only connection I ever had with the Joker was through Arkham. I was his therapist. That is all the contact I had ever had with him until this evening. Of course, you can imagine how frightening it would be for me to run into my former patients here—all of whom should still be my patients at Arkham come Monday morning," I responded with a tint of accusation in my voice. I raised my eyebrows as a smirk crossed my lips.

Dr. Crane let out a small laugh, "I can see your point. Well, you'd be glad to know that all three of your favorite patients are here, then,"

"All three? Who else is here?" I asked, feeling my heart sink deeper into my stomach.

"Edward Nygma—he's over there. Please tell me you remember the Riddler," Dr. Crane laughed as he pointed to a corner of the room. My head followed his direction and sure enough, Edward Nygma was conversing with some man, another Gotham City criminal, no doubt. I found it so strange in that very moment that each of these criminals, including Bruce, other alias's that many others did not know of. Dr. Crane was the Scarecrow, but by day, he was Dr. Crane. Edward was the Riddler by night, but no one knew that he was the Riddler. Of course no one knew the Joker's name—except for me. And Bruce—the best of them all—Batman. No one would ever suspect Bruce Wayne to be Batman. And yet, each of these criminals had come face to face with Bruce as Batman in the streets of Gotham. And yet, perhaps not even Bruce knew that Edward was the Riddler. He didn't even know that his beloved Selina Kyle was Catwoman.

And there I was—just as bad as the rest of them. Giada by day. Jade by night. I didn't know how well known I was becoming—not until just now speaking with Dr. Crane. Luckily he only knew of me as the stripper Jade, and not the criminal Jade who is a consort of the Joker's.

"So there he is," I sighed, "it's nice to see you both out and a about, I guess. If you don't mind my asking, how did you both manage to escape?"

"A true magician never reveals his tricks, especially not to you, Giada. I know very well you run on both sides of the line here in Gotham. You may come off as your daytime persona—the intelligent, morally bound Giada DiMarco NP, but I know you have another alias. I may not know what it is, but I know there's more to you than what meets the eye," Dr. Crane spoke as though he were falling in love with me. His eyes were intense behind his glasses, but he was always handsome. I almost wanted to tell him I was Jade by night, but I knew it was for the best he didn't know about my flaws. I was still, by law, his asylum therapist and nurse practitioner.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny anything, Dr. Crane. Until we meet again under different circumstances, our relationship must remain professional…unfortunately," I replied finally, as my heart fully plunged into my stomach.

"That's a shame. I really felt like we had a connection, Giada. But, as a psychiatrist myself, I do know where you're coming from. I'll not bother you any longer this evening. Until we meet again—because we _will_ meet again," he raised his martini glass towards me and then wandered off into the crowd.

A part of me almost wanted to chase after him and confirm everything he had just called me out on, but stopped myself. I knew it would be a horrible idea to confirm anything of the sort—especially since I was there with Bruce. I could never taint Bruce's name—not while he was at a gathering like this undercover for Batman.

"Giada! There you are!" Selina greeted me as she and Bruce approached, hand in hand. I smiled at them both, finally relieved that I could go home.

"Sorry I didn't get to say hello before, Selina. It's so good to see you," I responded as I hugged her.

"Did the Joker find you? He was looking for you," Selina stated as soon as we separated from our hug. I shook my head.

"No—I was just with him like…ten or fifteen minutes ago. I told him I wanted to find Bruce so that I could go home. As you can imagine, I'm not exactly in the greatest of moods since delivering Pixie's baby," I explained.

"I think he was going to take you home," Selina responded, "if you couldn't find Bruce,"

My heart just started fluttering at the thought of him caring enough for me to take me home, but just as my eyes darted about the room to find him and his wonderfully painted face, a loud commotion rose from beyond the dance floor. Selina and I both turned to Bruce, who was on full alert.

"Who is that?" Selina asked Bruce, as she followed his eyes with hers.

"Is that…the Joker?" I asked, astonished by the commotion. I could have sworn I saw him holding a knife to someone.

"No. It's not. It's Edward Nygma. That man was, last I heard, in Arkham. From the looks of things, he and Dr. Crane have both escaped," Bruce explained, trying to appear nonchalant.

Suddenly, The Penguin came running up to Selina, Bruce and I in a panic. He looked frazzled and slightly sweaty around the brows.

"Ms. DiMarco, I have a huge favor to ask of you," he panted desperately.

"What is it?" I asked, eager to help out how I could. I felt bad that he had thrown this enormous networking ball only to have Pixie deliver her baby and a fight break out.

"Please get up there and sing something—anything! I need my guest's nerves put at ease and there has been nothing but tacky nuances this evening! And besides—you're the hero who delivered a baby. My business partners will surely enjoy listening to you sing something while I clean up this fight," he explained.

I nodded my head in shaky agreement as he dragged me up to the stage where the band was playing. All I wanted to do was get the hell home!

"This fine lady here would like to sing 'Maybe'," the Penguin instructed the band.

"They already played that earlier tonight," I pleaded, really not wanting to sing that song, even though I loved it.

"I don't care—just sing it," the Penguin retorted and then left the stage and headed for the fight.

The band kicked up the song and handed me a microphone. I felt so exposed standing on the stage knowing I had amniotic fluid stained on my dress; not to mention I knew the Joker, Dr. Crane and Edward Nygma, all my former patients, were out there somewhere listening to me sing. Though, Edward was supposedly engaging in a fight, which didn't seem at all like him to me, but I guessed at this point, anything was possible.

_May-hay-be if I pray every night, you'll come back too-hoo me,_

_And may-hay-be, if I cry everyday, you'll come back to stay,_

_Oh, maaayybeeee_

_May-hay-be, if I hold your hand, you will understand,_

_And may-hay-be, if I kiss your lips, I'll be at your command,_

_Oh, maaayyybeee_

I sang the song in the style in which it had been sung back in the late 1950s. I felt stupid, but it was the only way I knew the song. But by the time I got about half way through the song, I felt the need to spice things up a bit. I turned around mid-lyric and signaled to the band to change it up.

"Alone, by Heart," I mouthed to them. It was my song for the Joker—it had always been how I felt about him. The band switched mid-chord from 'Maybe' to 'Alone'.

"We're gonna change it up a bit here. A little Heart does everyone good," I spoke into the microphone while the band vamped, "This one's for you—you know who you are, though it's not really a secret any longer,"

_I hear the tickin' of the clock, I'm lyin' here, the room's pitch dark,_

_I wonder where you are tonight, no answer on the telephone,_

_But the night goes by so very slow_

_Ohh I hope that it won't end though, alone_

_Till now I always got by own_

_I never really cared until I met you_

_And now it chills me to the bone_

_How do I get you alone?_

_How do I get you alone?_

_You don't know how long I have wanted to touch your lips and hold you tight_

_Ohh, you don't know how long I have waited, and I was gonna tell you tonight_

_But the secret it still my own_

_And my love for you is still unknown,_

_Alone_

_Ohhhhhhhhh_

_Till now, I always got by on my own_

_I never really cared until I met you_

_And now it chills me to the bone_

_How do I get you alone?_

_How do I get you alone?_

It wasn't until the end of the song I realized I made a crucial mistake by introducing it as a song for someone I knew. I knew the Joker hadn't had the faintest idea of what I had been talking about, because he was nowhere to be found. Dr. Crane, however, hung on my every lyric. My heart nearly exploded at the realization of what I had just done.

The crowd of guests all applauded when I finished singing and I hesitantly bowed in appreciation, gave the mic back to the band, and made my way down off the stage.

"Another! Sing another song!" someone shouted. In order to avoid Dr. Crane, who was making his way towards me, I ran back up on stage and asked the band for another song. I guess I would just sing my song—my stripping song that was my actual relationship with the Joker, 'Time is Running Out'. The band, thankfully, knew the song and began playing it. I began singing the song, but to my dismay, the guests were far from paying attention. The fight between who had supposedly been Edward Nygma and another local criminal, escalated to a full blown brawl. My eyes darted amongst the crowd, searching for Bruce and Selina, and maybe to see if the Joker would make himself known. It seemed that Bruce had vanished, but it was soon apparent to me that Dr. Crane, too, had vanished. I felt completely alone, singing a song that only brought me terrible memories.

"Come with me, Giada," a familiar voice echoed from behind me on the stage. I turned around, still singing, to find Dr. Crane holding out his hand to me. The band members nodded their heads for me to get out while I could, but something about the situation made me weary.

"Giada, it's not safe here—come with me!" Dr. Crane persisted. I shook my head anxiously as I finished the song. It wasn't long before I felt his arms wrap themselves about my waist and felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"Dr. Crane, put me down!" I shrieked, squirming in his grasp.

"You're coming with me, Ms. DiMarco," Dr. Crane murmured as he dragged me down the stairs and into the brawling crowd of guests.

"Where's Bruce?!" I shouted to him, trying to break free.

"He left—it's just you and me left," Dr. Crane explained loudly, over the cries and shouts from the fight.

"That can't be true! Bruce wouldn't leave me here! Please let me go so I can find him! You don't understand—he's my best friend!" I exclaimed, now shoving myself away from Dr. Crane. For such a thin man, he was impeccably strong. I could only imagine his muscular sculpture beneath his clothing to be quite impressive. But it was clearly not the time for me to croon over Dr. Crane—I was pretty sure at this point, he was capable of anything, just as the Joker was.

"Dr. Crane, the Scarecrow," another familiar voice appeared from behind Dr. Crane. Dr. Crane turned himself around, with me still in tow. I glanced up, as Dr. Crane had my head tightly pressed to his chest with one hand over my mouth. My heart nearly exploded. The Joker stood before us with a switchblade in hand.

"It's been…too long," the Joker mused, grinning widely at the both of us and then running his tongue across his bottom lip.

Dr. Crane grinned back at the Joker and then glanced down at me, "It seems I've gotten myself a little friend of ours," Dr. Crane stated, tightening his arms around me.

"So it does," the Joker agreed, raising his eyebrows, "it also appears like this, uh, brawl that's begun, isn't quite what it should be,"

"So it does," Dr. Crane agreed in return, "but if you will excuse me—I have a friend here who apparently needs to be alone with me," Dr. Crane winked at the Joker, but the Joker simply rolled his eyes and played with the scars inside his mouth with his tongue.

"I think you'd enjoy yourself more…if you joined the…fight with me," the Joker flashed Dr. Crane his switchblade and flashed him a Glasgow smile.

Dr. Crane was about to agree, but paused before he said anything. His eyes met he Joker's, but for a brief moment, he noticed the Joker's gaze at me—a gaze that not just anyone makes upon anyone. Dr. Crane glanced back down at me and saw that I hadn't taken my eyes from the Joker, as though I were pleading with him to save me. The hell I needed saving! I was just about the kick Dr. Crane in the balls, when he finally decided to speak.

"It seems to me that there's more here than meets the eye, am I right…Joker?" Dr. Crane mused, narrowing his eyes knowingly.

"With you, there's always more…than meets the eye, Crane," the Joker responded stiffly, flipping his switchblade repeatedly. "Okay, how about this—how about you hold…Giada here, while I cut her face with _my_ little friend," The Joker raised his eyebrows and licked his lips in amusement.

Dr. Crane looked horrified, "Why would you ever suggest that?! It would ruin her perfectly beautiful face!"

"I'm not the one holding her hostage while a perfectly exciting brawl is occurring behind me," the Joker pointed, using his knife as his pointer, "Now, if you are in fact the Dr. Crane I remember, you'll be…glad…to join me against these…miscreants who call themselves criminals,"

"Well, if you're the Joker I remember, then you'll have no problem cutting her face—like you just suggested," Dr. Crane stated, provoking the Joker's reputation. The Joker sighed nonchalantly, rolled his eyes and licked his lips.

"I don't know what you take me for, Crane—I'm a man of my word," the Joker replied in a low voice as he approached me with his knife in hand. I squirmed in Dr. Crane's grasp as he held onto me tightly, while the Joker grabbed my face with his left hand.

"You wouldn't dare," I said between squished lips.

"Shh, sh, sh, sh," the Joker placed his finger to my lips as he switched his blade up, "if I were you, I wouldn't be so sure this time around,"


	68. The Beginning is the end is the Beginnin

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68. The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

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_Disclaimer: Thank you thank you thank you to all the readers and reviews!!!!!! You are amazing! I named this chapter for a song by the Smashing Pumpkins. It is amazing and encompasses the overall feeling of this chapter. Enjoy!_

I clenched my hands into fists as the Joker tightened his grip on my face. Dr. Crane held onto me tightly, both of his arms wrapped across my chest. I knew this moment would come. I had always known the Joker would cut my face eventually. The look in his eyes told every truth I never knew. He had no feelings for me. He was really going to destroy my face—give me scars just like him.

I knew that squirming within Crane's grasp would do me no good. I had to remain calm and somehow get myself out of this situation—or hope desperately that Bruce would come to my rescue. I knew deep down inside that I couldn't rely on anyone else, though—I had to get myself out of this. I had to be strong.

"Please—don't do this to me!" I exclaimed, trying to twist my head out of his grasp while he smoothly flipped his switch blade. I knew I had a way out—but I had to make him believe I was terrified of him. Believing me to be scared to the point of paralysis was what he wanted, but I knew him all too well. I wasn't scared. I mean, I was scared, but I had to be strong. I would get out of this if it was the last thing I did on this Earth.

The Joker leaned in close to my face as he licked his lips, "There's no turning back now, sweet cheeks," he crooned as ran the flat of the blade across my cheek until it stopped at the corner of my mouth.

Up till now, I had kept my hands and arms perfectly still, lest Dr. Crane realize I had almost full ambulation of my upper limbs. This was now my chance to act. As the Joker slipped the blade seductively into my mouth, I reached behind me and grabbed Dr. Crane in the special place. Then, with one swift, smooth move of my left leg, I kicked the Joker directly in the groin. Crane instantly released me from his grasp and doubled over onto the floor in agonizing pain. I had grabbed him as hard as I could. He would be down for a long while.

The Joker, however, not stunned by pain, but rather enthused by pain, merely backed away from me in shock, giving me just enough time to run. The grin that spread across his mouth as I ran nearly reached his ears. It wasn't long before he chased after me amidst the riot of party guests. I ran as fast as I could towards the entry way. My eyes darted every which way in search of Bruce or someone else I knew and even slightly trusted, but no one could be found. The place was in complete havoc. I knew Bruce had to have made his exit. His reputation couldn't be at stake, lest the GPD show up.

To my dismay, the Joker was quick to catch up to me. His arm reached out and forcefully grabbed my wrist, pulling me back towards him. He then hastily rolled me around the corner of two walls so that the fighting guests were all behind us on the other side of the wall. He slammed me up against the wall and pressed himself firmly against me, leaning his left arm across my collar bone, nearly choking me.

"You see, all it takes is one bad day, Giada," the Joker hissed, his face inches from mine. I could feel his breath hot on my lips.

I turned my head away from him, wishing with all my heart that he would let me go. I kicked him once to get away. There was no chance in hell that would work again. Maybe if I kissed him he would be just as shocked and give me room to run for the door. The entry way was well within visionary field and I could run there in an instant if given the opportunity. I had to do something—say something that would catch him off guard. He was furious, for whatever reason, and I had to somehow bring him down from this, or else my face was going to get mutilated.

"One…bad…day. That's how it happened to me, you know. Someone else…had a…bad day…and I just happened to be there—the perfect victim for a bad day,"

"But it doesn't have to be a bad day—you just had a son," I choked out, just realizing how difficult it was becoming to breathe. "A beautiful little boy,"

"Sh sh sh sh, Giada, sweetheart—now's not the time," he spoke softly, in almost a whisper, directly into my ear. "I've made my decision," stated, his voice low as he pulled his head away from my ear. His tongue fished around his mouth and then moistened his lower lip. With the switchblade in hand, he ran his fingers across my cheek and then down to my lips.

"I always knew you would cut my face—all in due time," I spoke in a half-whisper, as my lips brushed his fingers from their surface. He paused suddenly, caught off guard, but not ceasing to hold me against the wall. "I guess this means you're…predictable,"

I think my words stung him. The Joker wasn't predictable—he was anything _but_ predictable. It was never simple, with the Joker. Bruce knew that. I knew that. Everyone knew that. The fact I had just called him predictable meant that I had ripped apart the very core essence of his very being. While for him it was an unexpected statement from me, it was a divot at him, and that made him very angry.

"I'm predictable," he spoke slowly, playing with his scars with his tongue. A sadistic grin formed across his lips, spreading his Glasgow smile wide. "And while you always figured I would…cut you…in this moment, when it came, you never thought I would actually go through with it; maybe because you figured that when this…moment…came, you'd figured that I'd realize that of all the people I've destroyed, I would never…want…to destroy you,"

I stared hard into his eyes, returning his fiery gaze. I had never seen his eyes so dark and malevolent before this moment—I was his victim. For the first time since I'd known him, I was finally his victim. Or maybe I had always _been_ his victim.

"Then do it. Cut my face. Prove me wrong. Make me the way you are—all it takes is one bad day then, right? Well, what happens when you cut my face and I don't become like you? Then what? Will your purpose be for naught? Will you regret cutting the face of the only person you've vowed never to kill?" I firmly, but calmly asked, unable to make my voice any louder than an undertone.

He didn't speak or move.

"Does it make you happy you're so strange?" I asked, feeling my voice fade as my throat became sore from the strain of speaking.

Finally, he made his move. His left arm that had been cutting across my clavicle, slid above and cut off my trachea. With one swift, clean cut movement, his hand switched his blade and slid it into my mouth.

"One…bad…day…makes us all…a little mad," he said in a low voice, between clenched teeth as he moved the blade to the corner of my mouth. I clenched my eyes shut, but as I did, I hadn't anticipated tears to roll down my cheeks; a sweet release from all the strength I'd mustered up inside to save myself from this very fate.

I felt his face lean in next to mine as he pressed his mouth against my ear, "You'll never know just how much I _do_ care," he whispered as he flicked the blade with one swift motion, slicing through the left corner of my mouth. Just when I felt the pain would never cease, the Joker was ripped away from me.

My eyes flew open and I gasped for air, while I clutched the side of my face he had cut me. Blood ran down my hands and spilled onto my dress. I tried to stop myself from crying, but the tears flowed endlessly down my blood stained cheeks. My face burned in agony as my mouth curled upward in a howling frown, ripping apart the side that was cut. Nothing could stop the pain or my crying—it was an endless catch 22 of agony. The more I cried, the more the pain flowed. I didn't even notice that my best friend Bruce had removed the Joker from me. Bruce as Batman, that is.

The Joker and Batman threw punches and kicks at one another, while I curled up in a ball against the wall. I knew I had to get out—Dr. Crane would certainly be recovered by now and probably looking for me. It was surely my darkest hour. I had endured countless 'darkest hours' in my life, but none of them had been inflicted by someone I grew to love and trust. He was right—I had never anticipated that he would actually cut my face.

Finally, I gained enough strength to rise to my feet. I nearly fell as I stood, wobbling on my high heels.

"Giada, run to the door!" Batman instructed me, as he hovered over the Joker's unconscious body. I paused and gazed through blurry eyes at the love who had just hurt me. "Go! Now!"

I ran towards the entry way to find a limo outside waiting for me.

"Miss Giada, what happened?!" Alfred exclaimed as he helped me into the limo. I shook my head, unable to speak, for the pain was much too great. I spent the limo ride back to Bruce's penthouse sobbing into Alfred's lap, while he comforted me as best he could.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When next I was cognisant, I found myself lying in a soft, white bed; Bruce was by my side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked in a soft, gentle voice. He ran his hand over my forehead and through my hair. I felt dizzy, but I tried sitting up.

"I..." the pain flooded my face with that single letter. I clutched the side of my face and felt the bumps of stiches. My eyes bore into Bruce's.

"It's not nearly as bad as it feels, I promise you that. You only needed a couple of stiches to make sure it heals correctly. It really will be fine—you'll probably only have a minor, barely even noticeable scar once it's healed," Bruce explained, forcing a smile across his face. I nodded silently as I glanced about the room. I noticed the sun was out—it was a new day.

Bruce, reading my facial expression offered me more of an explanation, "It's been a day. We took you to the hospital for them to stitch you up, then we brought you back here and you slept all of yesterday and last night,"

I averted my eyes to the table beside the bed with the diamond choker lying on it. The choker the Joker had given me because I was beautiful enough to wear such a piece of elegance. Ironic that the Joker had _choked_ me later on that same evening. The Joker had been my choker. My heart sank and my face went numb as I recalled the events of that evening. And despite everything he had done to me, despite the I delivered his baby with Pixie, my heart still mourned and sat in the pit of my stomach for him.

The tears came again and I couldn't stop them. Bruce reached out his hand and wiped them away as I silently wept.

"I didn't hurt him—the Joker feels no pain, Giada. Please don't be angry with me," Bruce pleaded, misreading my tears. I shook my head and grabbed lovingly onto his hand.

"I know you're devastated, Giada. You love him, I know. He's fine. He's home—wherever that is...or at least I figure he's home,"

"I want to go home," I spoke finally, trying to move my lips as little as possible.

"Tomorrow," Bruce promised with a firm nod of his head and a small smile.

"No...I want to go home _home_," I responded, meaning Boston.

"To Boston?" Bruce asked, "To stay?" his face twisted with concern. He knew very well I couldn't keep running to Boston every time something tragic happened to me. I knew this as well. I didn't want to go home to stay—I just needed the beach. I needed to clear my mind.

"No," I shook my head finally, "I need the beach, Bruce," I replied, "It's my refuge,"

"Then tomorrow, I'll fly you out to Boston for as long as you need to be there," Bruce stated, reassuringly. I nodded and reached out to hug him. I couldn't smile, but I knew he knew I would if I could.


	69. BrokenHearted Girl

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69. Broken-hearted Girl

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_Disclaimer: I am glad that like the Joker, you all feel the story has taken an unpredictable turn!! The Joker, after all, __**is**__a villain! I think it can be easy to forget that when so in love with him—I think Giada even let herself forget what he is capable of doing. The title of this chapter and lyrics at the beginning are from a song by Beyonce—the amazing Beyonce! Take a listen—it's pretty perfect for Giada and how she is feeling. Thank you all soo sooooooo much for your support!!_ These are links to the beach that Giada goes to if you are interested! .?pid=32367662&id=18205417 .?id=18205417&ref=profile#?pid=32367616&id=18205417

_You're everything I thought you never were  
And nothing like I thought you could've been  
But still you live inside of me  
So tell me how is that?_

You're the only one I wish I could forget  
The only one I'd love to not forgive  
And though you break my heart, you're the only one  
And though there are times when I hate you  
Cause I can't erase  
The times that you hurt me  
And put tears on my face  
And even now while I hate you  
It pains me to say  
I know I'll be there at the end of the day

I don't wanna be without you babe  
I don't want a broken heart  
Don't wanna take a breath with out you babe  
I don't wanna play that part  
I know that I love you  
But let me just say  
I don't want to love you in no kind of way no no  
I don't want a broken heart  
And I don't wanna play the broken-hearted girl…No...No  
No broken-hearted girl  
I'm no broken-hearted girl

I sat on Bruce's private jet in silence, gazing steadily out the window. The clouds were puffy and dreamlike—mountains of whipped cream or something like that. If only life were actually made of food and things to make the pain go away.

Bruce had remained in Gotham while I made my way East. He had wanted to go with me, but I had insisted that he stay behind—it would look suspicious of he had left Gotham after being at the Penguin's shin dig the other night. Besides, I needed the time alone—completely alone. I hadn't even told my mother I was coming back to Boston for a few days. I didn't want anyone to know anything.

I leaned back in my seat and let my lids fall drowsily over my eyes. Images and flashbacks of the Penguin's party flashed before me: the Joker and I dancing; the Joker giving me the choker; Pixie and the Joker's baby, Braidon; the Joker cutting my face. It all flashed before me like some kind of horror film. As if things couldn't get worse, memories flooded through my brain, complete with images and dialogue:

Harvey Dent had his gun pointed at me and the Joker had to tell me everything was going to be just fine_"It takes just a simple push to make someone cross over into madness, as you can tell from our good friend Harvey Dent—but you…you Giada, you're going to be just fine—because…well…I won't let you die—not unless I'm the one pointing that gun at you,"_

The memory was vivid, as if it happened yesterday. It was the night that I helped the Joker escape from county—I had cut myself with shattered glass and then was hit with a ricocheted bullet through my shoulder. I still had the scars from that evening to haunt me.

The night he came to Boston—he showed up at the Joker's Wild. We had gone into a private room and he held his blade up to my face, much like he had done a couple nights ago, "_Do it," I said finally. _

"_What?" he asked, taken off guard by my statement. _

"_I said 'do it'. If you're going to cut my face, just do it. Don't stall like this. It's killing me," I said finally as I took in a deep breath. _

"_Where's the fun if there's no anticipation?" he asked with a crazed grin. _

"_Well, maybe if you could figure out the right reasons for cutting my face, maybe it would be even more fun," I responded. _

"_How so?" he asked. _

"_Well, if you thought it would make you happy to see my face like yours, then do it. If not, then maybe there is another reason for you to cut me. Maybe there is no reason at all. Maybe you just want to cut someone and I happen to be a convenient victim for you," I stated. _

"_Oh Giada, you're no victim," he stated, "And besides—why let me?"_

"_Why should I let you cut my face? I have my reasons," I responded. _

"_Do share!" he giggled, adjusting his grip on the blade. _

"_Would it make you love me?"_

"_You know, I was going to say that was a poor choice of words, Giada," he said finally as he let the blade linger inside my mouth. _

"_But…?" _

"_But—where's the…fun…in this," he said as he removed the blade from my mouth and made a cutting motion with the blade on his own face, "when you…already smile all the time?"_

The memory was almost as painful at the scar on my face. In that moment, I would have actually believed him that he cared for me. But then again, perhaps I had grown lax in my perspectives of the Joker. The Joker was a criminal—a mass murdering clown. He truly had no remorse for the deeds he committed—why should I be any different? Why should I have taken him at his word? I really should have known better than to take his word. He had always told me he was a man of his word, but in this instance, he went against it. I really should have expected it.

And yet, in that memory of him at the club, I had wanted him to cut my face if it would make him love me. Maybe he remembered that conversation and that was his motivation for actually cutting my face at the Penguin's ball.

I opened my eyes and watched the puff mounds float by my window, sick of grasping for the Joker's reasoning. He cut my face. End of story. He did it because he felt like it. The Joker never had a reason for doing anything—he just _did_ things. He had told me that too. I guess as humans, we try to make meaning out of everything, and when someone does something without a purpose, it is difficult to comprehend. There was a time when I could understand this with the Joker, but for some reason, I had grown apart from it. I had grown into a Giada who truly believed he had meaning—or at least was capable of acting in life with meaning or purpose. Apparently I had been wrong all this time.

I sat back and closed my eyes. Soon, Bruce's plan would be landing in Massachusetts and his private limo would be taking me to my favorite beach. Bruce was too good to me. He knew this was what I needed, and for that, I was eternally grateful for him. I only hoped Selina's identity as Catwoman would remain a mystery to him until I returned in a couple of days. I just had the feeling that he would need me for support when her identity came out to him. It wasn't that Selina was a criminal for the worse of Gotham—I just had the feeling Bruce would be disappointed that she is capable of murder, where he is not. I was capable of murder as well, but Bruce did not feel for me the way he felt for Selina. There is just no telling how he will react when he finds out she is Catwoman. He will probably feel let down, but unable to let go of his love for her, much like the way I felt for the Joker. Once love grabbed a hold of me, it refused to let go, for better or worse. No matter how much my love for the Joker hurt me, I just couldn't let go—and I couldn't be broken-hearted. I would not let myself be broken-hearted. I had led myself into this fate—I could have turned back early in the game, but I was foolish and love-stricken. I was awed by his psychosis—his ability and willingness to know me. He was the only person in my life who truly knew me and what I was capable of, save for Bruce. But even at times, not even Bruce could understand me. Maybe with Selina, he will finally understand what it means to love someone you can't have.

Forty-five minutes later, Bruce's private jet landed at Logan International Airport in Boston. My heart rate accelerated slightly as the plane slowed to a halt. I rose from my seat, carrying my duffle bag in my left hand.

"Ms. DiMarco, your limo is here," one of Bruce's employees informed me. I smiled and nodded.

"Thank you very much," I responded and then turned, walking down the steps to the airport runway.

The limo driver emerged and opened the door for me, assisting with my one bag. I smiled at him and stepped into the backseat of the limo. Within no time, we were off, driving towards my destination. Bruce had told me he arranged for me to stay at a hotel in Boston. I was unaware of which hotel, but at this moment, I didn't care. It was nearing sunset and I had to get to my beach. I needed to clear my head. I needed to bury my feet in the sand, I needed to smell the salty sea air, and I needed to feel the cold ocean water on my skin.

"To Plum Island," I told the limo driver, "It's near Newburyport, all the way up route one,"

"Right away, Ms. DiMarco," he responded diligently. I sat back into the soft leather seat and shut my eyes for the drive ahead of me. Plum Island was the beach my friends and I would always go to during my summers in high school and when we were home from college. It was the only beach we didn't have to pay more than five dollars for parking. It was really nothing special, except that it was my place of refuge. There were countless days when I couldn't handle life, that I would just drive up there, windows down, blasting my music, feeling the wind whip through my hair. It would be near sunset and I would always get there in time to see the sun turn from orange to magenta. I always loved watching the darkness spread across the night sky as the sun set below the horizon. I always took refuge in knowing that beyond the vast ocean before me, the nest bit of land was Europe. It was an incredibly humbling experience, and I needed that humbling.

The car ride to Plum Island lulled me into a soft slumber. I didn't even know we had arrived until the limo driver stopped the vehicle and opened the backseat door for me to exit.

"Ms. DiMarco, we've arrived," he said to me, softly shaking me awake. My eyes opened slowly, but I was quick to make my exit.

"Thank you so much," I replied, somewhat drowsily, and emerged from the limo. The smell of the salty sea air hit me as a gust of wind blew in from the shore. I began my long walk down the small boardwalk to the beach. I removed my shoes and placed them in my bag as I trudged through the sand until I finally came to my section of the beach: right near the jetty of rocks.

I rested my bag gently down on the sand and took a seat beside it. The sand was slightly warm on the surface from being heated all day by the sun, but as I burrowed my feet, the grains slowly grew cooler and cooler. The sensation was refreshing and sobering. I gazed out at the vast ocean before me and drew in a deep breath. An overwhelming sense of release exhaled out of my body and was carried away by the ocean wind.

"Just let me get my head straight, please," I spoke aloud softly. I found that whenever I was at the beach, I would speak to it as though it could listen to my every word. Maybe I felt that the ocean contained an omniscient divine presence that, for one reason or another, guided me when I felt lost in life. Whatever it was, I knew it listened to me whenever I spoke. While no advice would be offered in return, it just felt good to speak aloud and get my intentions known to the universe.

I spoke my peace with the sea until the sun was no longer visible in the sky and its brilliance had turned the sky to twilight. It was my favorite time of day, but I knew I had to be getting back to the limo. I stood to my feet, grabbed my bag and shuffled through the sand back to the boardwalk which led to the parking lot.

"Do you feel refreshed, Ms. DiMarco?" the limo driver asked me once I returned. I smiled lightly and nodded.

"Yes, very much so," I responded, and then sat into the limo. As the drive drove away from the beach, I couldn't help but think about what he did all the time I was down by the ocean. I hoped to God he went somewhere and got dinner or something—if not, I felt absolutely horrible.

I was unaware of the hotel Bruce was putting me up in for my time at home, but once we were in Boston, I got a better picture of the kind of place it was. The driver pulled up in front of the Four Seasons Hotel and opened the backseat door for me. I emerged from the limo in astonishment. I had never before stayed at the Four Seasons! I always heard of various famous people who would stay at this hotel when they were visiting Boston for whatever which reason.

"This is my number—call if you need anything at all. If you find that you don't, I'll be back here the day after tomorrow to bring you back to the airport to Mr. Wayne's private jet," the limo driver offered me his card.

"I really can't thank you enough. Please, take tonight and tomorrow for yourself—enjoy the city and some time off," I replied.

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss DiMarco," he stated and then got back into the limo and drove away. I grabbed my bag and walked into the hotel and to the front desk.

"Hi, I'm here—I believe I have a reservation," I spoke, my voice shaky from the overwhelming experience of staying at the Four Seasons.

"Mmhm…and what is your name?" the woman asked, dubious that someone like me could be spending a two nights at the Four Seasons.

"My name is Giada DiMarco, but I believe my friend—"

"Yes, sorry miss, but your name is not in our computer,"

"You didn't let me finish," I interrupted her. She was being so rude! "My friend, Bruce Wayne made the booking,"

The woman's eyebrows rose as she knew exactly who Bruce Wayne was. She typed it into the computer and hesitantly handed me a room key.

"It's his room—the room he stays in whenever he comes to Boston on business I assume. It's on the 6th floor, overlooking the Public Gardens. It's called our Garden Suite," she stated flatly.

I snatched the key from her and headed towards the elevator.

Once up on the 6th floor, I searched for my Garden Suite room, slid my key in the door and walked into the most breath taking hotel room in which I had ever been. There were greenery and flowers all throughout the living room space, including a candle-lit birdcage sized chandelier. My mouth literally dropped open in astonishment, as well as my bag. Once I got over my initial shock at the beauty of the living room, I made my way towards the bedroom and bathroom. When I pushed open the bedroom door, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I dropped my bag, and my jaw nearly met my feet.

"Well hello, beautiful," the Joker greeted me, as he sprawled across the large king sized bed.


	70. Dangerous Game

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70. Dangerous Game

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_Disclaimer: Sorry for the cliffie and then not updating! I was on a vacation con mia famiglia! BUT I am back and updating! Thank you so much for the reviews and reading the story! I am so grateful you are all willing to stick with the story—it's so long! I'd love to his 100 chapters haha! As for what Giada looks like, definitely check out what CuberFTW suggested, I think those actresses can work for what she looks like. I think that perhaps Giovanna Antonelli is also a very good representation. But then again, she is however you want her to look, really. I actually really like the look of Giada De Laurentiis too, so maybe check her out too! The only thing to really remember about Giada is that she is not very tall—she's probably maximum, 5'3'' on a good day with heels and she has dark curly hair and has that traditional beautiful olive skin of southern Italy. Anything else about her is really up to your imagination! The lyrics and the title are from a song called "Dangerous Game" from the show Jekyll and Hyde. Take a listen—it's perfect for Giada and the Joker! Enjoy! _

_At the touch of your hand,_

_At the sound of your voice,_

_At the moment your eyes meet mine_

_I am losing my mind, I am losing control,_

_Fighting feelings I can't define_

The Joker's Glasgow grin was wide with anticipation of my arrival. I couldn't even feel the pain from my scar on my cheek as my jaw hung nearly to the floor. I was utterly shocked and completely incapable of speaking a single word. I tried desperately to find my voice with breath I just didn't seem to have; I was speechless. My heart fluttered with an old excitement, but my stomach was churning in horror. How the hell did he find me?! I had gone home to Boston for a little mental R&R. His surprise appearance certainly would not help with that, especially since I hadn't a clue as to why he came—or how he found me.

His eyes were dark and intense as he stared hard at me. His hand glided his hand across then bed and then patted the surface, indicating for me to join him. I blinked my eyes hard, making sure that he was actually there. When they opened again, and he hadn't vanished, I felt my blood begin to boil. All shock and horror had vanished, and all that remained was my Italian fury. My upper lip curled over my teeth as I drew in a fierce breath.

"How the hell did you find me?" I barked at him, clenching my hands into fists at my side. His grin only grew wider as he released an elated giggle. Sitting up, he moved to the edge of the bed and sat with his legs spread apart, letting his feet slightly dangle above the floor. His tongue slid across his bottom lip and then disappeared inside his mouth, where it played momentarily with the scars.

"Now where's the _fun_ in that, sweet cheeks?" he asked, with a mocking sweetness in his voice. My eyes narrowed into a glare that probably would have killed him if looks could murder. I took a forceful step forward towards him.

"I came here to get a little peace of mind—something that cannot possibly happen with you sneaking into my private room. How you found me, I'll never know, but if you want to leave this place alive, you better tell me…_now_," I sneered. My fists were balled so tightly my hands were beginning to lose feeling in them. I could only imagine how white they looked compared to the rest of my tanned skin.

The Joker's grin broke into a serious pout and his eyes relaxed a bit, dropping back to a regular position beneath his eyebrows. He shook his head slowly as he averted his eyes to his dangling feet. "Now, I know you don't mean that, Giada," he spoke finally, and then glanced up at me while his head was still bent slightly forward.

I shook my head, pursing my lips tightly together, "You don't want to find out," I spoke firmly through clenched teeth.

"You forget, Giada, that I know you better than…most," he explained matter-of-factly. His tone of voice and relaxed state of being only further angered me. He couldn't take me seriously and that infuriated my very existence. He had the balls to cut my face and then the audacity to show up here in Boston only to tell me he knew me better than anyone else in the world.

"Get out—just get the fuck out," I demanded, closing my eyes tightly so that I could not see him. The mere sight of him instilled in me the urge to rip him in half. I could hear him shift uncomfortably on the bed, but not rise to his feet.

"Well then I'll tell you—because I'm not going anywhere," he stated finally, then jumping to his feet. In the moment it took me to open my eyes, the Joker had sprung across the room and had me in a tight lock.

"Let me go," I urged in a low, calm voice, glaring at him from my peripheral. The Joker leaned his face in close to me as his arms held tightly onto me.

"No," he responded in the same calm, low voice I had spoken. "See, I didn't quite anticipate this animosity from you, but I guess, it's somewhat justified,"

"Like hell it's justified! You cut my face!" I shouted at him angrily, squirming to free myself from his grasp.

He held me tighter, "Uh uh, now it's your turn to listen to me," he soothed with his voice. I knew it was a farce. He had no reason to soothe me if he came here to finish the cutting job.

"See, had I known you'd be this…_uncooperative_…I'd have never cut your face, Giada. This is a dangerous game we're playing here—a game where you make me believe you want me to cut your f ace…oh, a long time ago back here in Boston…at that little club of yours—then some time later, I do the deed only to find out…you _lied_. I don't appreciate lying, Giada—and from what I've gathered, neither do you. I only did what I do best—I took when you said and turned it into a reality. Well, I can't help if that reality has changed for you since that evening I came for you. Now, you wish to know how I found you? Well, it's no secret I'm inside your head—you let me in there yourself, Giada. You only have yourself to blame for that—for _falling in love_ with a madman,"

I couldn't tell if his voice was mocking or sincere. I think it had a tinge of both—he was sincere but felt he had to mock the situation only because I was being difficult. Well what the hell did he expect—for me to welcome him with open arms after cutting my face?! Then again…he was right; I had wanted him to cut my face that one time, but only if it would make him love me. I suppose that was an idiotic thing to want, but there was a strong part of me that was probably just as crazy as him.

"You're right—I did let you in, but it was a mistake," I responded, no longer trying to escape from his hold.

"A mistake, hm? That's too bad, Giada, because I don't think it was a mistake. That's how I found you—because you…opened yourself to me," he responded with a small laugh.

"How do you mean?" I asked, now curious by his explanation.

The Joker pursed his lips playfully, then tongued his scars before opening his mouth for clarification, "I found the Bat," he spoke finally in a low raspy voice. My heart immediately sank, assuming the worst—that he and Bruce had battled to the death over my location, and Bruce lost.

"What did you do?" I asked, holding in my anxiety and worry for Bruce's safety.

"Oh don't worry—I didn't kill the Bat!" the Joker exclaimed, erupting in a fit of laughter, "Batsy's just too much fun to kill, Giada; don't you know that by now?"

"Yes, I don't know what I was thinking," I responded softly, unnerved that he was able to sense my fear for Bruce. I wondered in that moment if he knew Batman was Bruce Wayne, my best friend. He seemed to know everything.

"I asked the Batman where you were—I knew he had taken you away. It's what Batsy seems to do with you. He simply responded, after a much heated battle with me, 'if you know her as well as you say, you'll know where she is,' and so I knew right then and there…_Boston_,"

A chill wiggled itself down my spine as his breath from the word "Boston" hit the back of my neck. I couldn't believe Bruce would say that to the Joker—maybe Bruce wanted the Joker to find me.

"How did you get here so quickly? My plane left today," I asked in a near whisper.

"I know. Mine did too," he replied and then suddenly released me from his grasp, throwing me onto the bed. He crawled on top of me and peered down at me as his stringy hair hung down in front of his face. I couldn't help but peer up at him, intrigued.

I couldn't believe what he was saying—had he stolen away on Bruce's private jet without anyone knowing? Had he somehow taken a normal flight from the Gotham City airport?

The Joker peered down at me with unquestioning eyes, "I know you're curious, but…I know…you can figure it out," he crooned as his gloved hand smoothed my curly hair away from my face. I wanted to cringe, but I really loved the way he held me there beneath him. Apparently he trusted me enough with knowing him that I should be able to figure out whether or not he was on Bruce's private jet. I assumed he somehow managed to sneak aboard. It would be something he would do.

"So you stowed away in Bruce Wayne's private jet. I'm surprised Batman led to you that conclusion," I responded, letting my lips slightly part into a grin.

"Then you underestimate the Bat and me," he replied, then tonguing his scars, "And besides, your dear friend Mr. Wayne was nowhere to be found—it was all too…simple,"

I nodded my head. Bruce hadn't taken me to the jet this morning—just Alfred. I wondered if Bruce had somehow planned for this to happen. No. He couldn't. He knew I needed some time to myself here in Boston—that was why I came home in the first place!

"Besides wanting to find me, why did you come here?" I asked, hoping to soften him into maybe telling me he loved me too.

"What other reason could I have besides wanting you back?" he asked, almost in a curious manner, as though he had another reason in mind. The expression on his face was quizzical, but in a slightly mischievous way. I saw his eyes glance away from mine and down to where he cut the side of my mouth. I was then suddenly hit with the fear of him coming so he could finish cutting the other side of my face.

I reached my hand up to touch couple of nearly invisible sutures that closed the small cut. Knowing I was aware of his gaze, his eyes shifted back up to mine and a small smirk spread across his scarred lips.

"I never had stitches in mine," he stated, biting his lower lip softly.

"No? I can only imagine how much more painful yours were than this one—it's a lot smaller than what I had imagined before seeing it," I responded, no longer quite to angry with him. The scar really was short in length.

"It could have been…longer," the Joker replied, "Like mine…if you wanted it to be,"

I tilted my head, curiously, unsure of his motive for even cutting my face at all—besides that one conversation we had a long while ago when I had told him he could cut my face.

"But I don't think you would look so pretty with scars like mine," he continued, his voice growing softer and lower.

I bit my lower lip and then let go of a smile as I looked up at him, "I suppose. But like you said, it's a dangerous game…cutting peoples' faces,"

He smiled back at and then backed off from me, allowing me to sit up. I perched up on my elbows as I watched him stand to his feet from the bed. Taking a remote from the entertainment center, he pressed the on button and Doris Day filled the room. I loved her voice—it was so beautiful and soothing. I couldn't help but smile. Casually, he kicked off his shoes and removed his large overcoat, placing it over a large cushioned chair in the corner of the room. I watched him as he continued to remove his gloves, and finally, began loosening his tie.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling somewhat stupid. He was obviously removing his clothes.

"Taking a bath," he replied, unbuttoning his vest and placing it on the same chair as his coat. A bath? Never quite imagined the Joker taking a bath before this moment, but I guessed even he had to relax. Before my first time at his apartment, I couldn't even imagine him showering—mostly because he always looked so greasy.

"Well, have fun with that. I'm going to un-pack," I responded, hoisting myself up and off the bed. I walked over to the door way bent of to retrieve my bag. The Joker, however, now no longer clothed, grabbed me from behind and started dragging me across the bedroom.

"What are you doing?!" I shrieked, suddenly fearful of what he was about to do. Once inside the bathroom, he kicked the door closed with his foot and held me against it, trying to remove my clothes. I had tried initially to fight him, but once I got a look at the bathroom, I softened up to him. Candles were lit everywhere and two glasses with a bottle of wine were beside the Jacuzzi, which was already full to the brim with piping hot water.

"You did this?" I asked, not able to hide my smile from him.

"No—Santa Claus popped his ass down the chimney and did it all," he responded, hoisting my shirt over my head.

"Why the romance now?" I asked, ignoring his comment and letting him to continue to undress me.

"I'm full of surprises—it's never quite that simple with me. You know that, Giadaaaa," he crooned and then led me over to the hot tub. We both stepped into the steaming hot tub and sat down. He immersed himself fully in the water right away, but it took me a couple of minutes to get used to the hot water. He poured some wine and handed me a glass.

"So is this really wine, or is it that special punch of yours?" I asked with a smirk, taking a sniff of the liquid in my glass.

"That's for you to find out, sweet cheeks," he replied, clanking his glass with mine. He then gulped all of the liquid down his throat and placed his glass back onto the tub. I took a small sip only to find that it was an aged chianti.

"Drink up, doll face—we've got a bottle here to finish," he smirked as he poured more wine into his glass.

"The whole bottle? You do realize that wine doesn't get me drunk, right?" I asked, returning his sly grin, "I'm Italian, remember? This stuff is my peoples' water,"

"Well, I don't know about _this_ stuff," he responded, a wide conniving smile spreading across his lips. I took another drink from my glass and swashed it around my mouth before swallowing. It tasted like a chianti—but now I wasn't so sure.

"What is it? Or, rather, what did you put in it? Is it not a chianti?" I asked, taking the bottle from him and searching the label. To my dismay, the bottle had no readily available label—it was some homemade concoction from the Joker! I was an idiot to think he bought us aged wine. I should have known better than to think that—I should have _known_ it was one of his crazy drinks that contain every kind of alcohol possible.

"Like I said—drink up, honey," he repeated himself, this time not as sweetly as before. I nervously drank the rest of my glass and held it out for him to pour me some more. I guessed I had to go along with his little plan, whatever it was.

"You're making me anxious, Joker," I said finally, taking another sip from this glass. He sighed and shook his head.

"I've never really given you a reason not to trust me, Giada," he stated finally.

"No? How about that time you cut my face?" I asked, irritated.

"I only did it because you had told me you wanted me to cut your face—especially since you have those _crazy_ feelings for me," he replied, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip from his glass. I felt myself blush. He knew clearly about my love for him and there was no way for me to ever deny my feelings towards him now. I simply took another sip from my glass and held it close to me.

"Why so quiet?" he asked, cocking his head to the side and setting his glass on the tub rim.

I found I wasn't even able to look him in the eyes, but I forced myself to lock eyes with him before speaking, "It's true—you know how I feel about you,"

"Giada, please—it was no secret. I've known for…a while," he responded, then licked his lips. His face paint was beginning to run and melt from his face. Feeling slightly playful, I splashed a little water up into his face, causing the water to erase more of the makeup. He let out a surprised cough and splashed me back. I just laughed and splashed him again.

I shifted onto my knees and crawled close to him. Sitting in front of him on my knees, I ran my palms over his face, removing the makeup. Finally, I gently removed the black from his eyes with my finger tips. He eyes fluttered closed while I washed his face. Some of the black remained darker around his eyes, but most of his face paint was finally removed. His eyes opened and I couldn't help but smile at him. I took his face between my palms and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back passionately, hoisting me off my knees and leaning my back against the side of the hot tub so that he was on top of me. After several moments of kissing, he finally pulled his lips from mine. I stared hard into his eyes. From the corner of my eye, I saw his knife on the side of the tub.

"I know you came here to finish cutting my face," I spoke finally in low voice.

"Only if you want me to," he said. It took me by surprise. I turned my head to look at the knife. It was his switchblade; the blade hidden beneath the shaft.

"I think you should—I want you to," I decided, taking the knife in my hand.

"Are you sure? There's no going back once it's done,"

"Yes, I'm sure. Make it like the other one—small," I instructed him. I handed him the blade and he mechanically switched the blade up and held it to my face. He looked so comfortable holding the blade to my mouth, but he paused. Looking down at me, he took my hand in his other hand.

"For some reason, I can't understand why…" he spoke in a low voice, "I don't like hurting _you_, Giada,"

"I guess it can be a dangerous game, hurting people," I replied, smiling slightly.

"Hurting people…is easy. This is not easy," he explained, shifting uneasily above me.

"It should be easy because I want you to do it," I stated, trying to calm him. He looked anxious and I did not want an anxious Joker cutting my face. That could only lead to disaster—for my face.

"Sh sh sh, don't speak," he instructed, closing his eyes, "I need to envision someone else,"

"You know, this is quite endearing," I joked with him, but immediately, his other hand released from mine and covered my mouth.

"Don't speak—I don't understand this," he responded, opening his eyes.

"You're the Joker—Gotham's most infamous criminal!" I exclaimed from behind his hand. He removed his hand from my mouth as a small smile cracked from his lips, "I know you can cut my face—you did it once before,"

"But this time is different—you're not with anyone. You're here with me,"

"Were you upset I was with Dr. Crane?" I asked, suddenly understanding his anger behind the cutting. He was jealous. I just knew it! Not that his jealous was any excuse for cutting my face.

"Just say anything that you think will make me upset—something you think will…upset me," he stated, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes once more.

I pondered all of the things I could say that would upset him. I could mention Pixie and his son Braidon. I could mention the Batman, but I Batman was someone who amused him. Suddenly, I knew exactly what I could say that would throw him off track. He slipped the knife into my mouth slowly.

"Say something—now," he instructed, leaning in close to my face. His face was centimeters from mine, as his lips grazed mine.

I had to say it. He would not know what hit him, "I love you" The words left my mouth as our lips touched and his eyes flew open in astonishment. I had never said it directly to him before. He hadn't wanted to cut my face, but because of the unsuspecting shock, the knife slipped and made the minor cut it was supposed to. He nearly dropped the knife as blood began running down my face and onto his hand. He backed away from me and threw the knife from his hand onto the bathroom floor.

"You did it," I responded, ignoring the pain as I held my face in my hand.

"No thanks to that little remark," he snapped back, clearly shaken that he had cut my face because I told him I loved him.

"It's fine—I wanted you to do this," I spoke, clearly in pain. I held my face in my hand and looked down at the blood dripping down into the water from my chin.

"Come here," he said finally, pulling me close to him and taking my hand away from my face. Holding me in his lap, he pressed his lips to the scar and kissed my face. It sent chills up and down my spine. I really did love him, and in that moment, I thought maybe he loved me too.

"That's a dangerous little game you played," he stated between kisses. I could feel his lips part into a smile as he kissed my cheek.

"It's the same dangerous game you've been playing all along," I replied with a smile.


	71. Enchantment

~*~*~

71. Enchantment

~*~*~

_Disclaimer: Sorry for the late update! Happy one year anniversary to the Dark Knight! _

After soaking in the hot tub only briefly after my face was cut into a mini Glasgow smile, the Joker and I emerged from the bathroom and I bandaged up my newly-cut wound. The Joker lazily climbed onto the bed and under the covers. His eyelids covered his eyes as he rested into the soft pillow. He looked genuinely worn. I couldn't entirely put my finger on it, but I definitely had some guesses.

Once my face was bandaged, I crawled onto the bed and sat next to him. He breathed in and out a few times before opening his eyes. He glanced over at me and then back at the wall across the room.

"Why so blue, panda bear?" I asked with a small smile, quoting a commercial from many years ago. The Joker's eyes flew back at me in a glare. My smile quickly faded into a frown to mock his serious expression.

"I hate that bandage," he responded finally, sounding incredibly irritated and averting his eyes back to the wall.

"Well unfortunately, it's necessary. But I'm positive that's not the only thing on your mind," I probed. I bit my lower lip and decidedly sat up on my knees, facing him. The Joker simply sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Try me," he stated flatly, tonguing his scars. A smirk curled up over my lips, then immediately vanished as I prepared myself to speak.

"Well, regardless of the fact you're a brute criminal who pretty much has no heart, you can't help but think about…Braidon," I stated, then cocking an eyebrow curiously.

The Joker sighed, "Go on…" he spoke, agitation clearly in his voice. He knew I was hitting home with my guess.

"You're not sure about the situation. You don't want a kid—you don't care to ever see him again. But, you also would prefer Pixie not to care for him either. She'll make a terrible mother—that's my opinion," I added at the end, smiling slyly.

"You think I'm heartless?" he asked suddenly, turning on his side so that he could face me. I paused before answering his question. I wasn't sure if he was truly heartless—I had only said it to see if it would warrant a reaction, and it clearly had. Perhaps he had been mostly heartless, but I suppose that in order to crave mayhem, you had to care about something; in his case, he cared for destruction and chaos.

"Well, no. I don't think you're entirely heartless. I think because you prefer to induce chaos into the lives of others, you have the capacity to care, which means you aren't apathetic, which is a good thing. If you were apathetic, I'd more concerned. The fact you have the capacity to hate means you have the capacity to love—not to say that you do love or that you ever will love, but that it's a possibility; so no, you're not heartless—you're just reckless and in no need of a son," I explained, trying to choose my words carefully.

He was silent for a moment, absorbing in my explanation. While he thought it all through, his tongue probed the inside of his mouth and then moistened his bottom lip before speaking.

"I just don't see how he's mine," the Joker replied finally.

"Well, if you fucked Pixie and neglected to wear a condom, then I'm going with the fact Braidon's yours," I stated curtly, irritated that I was reminded of his sexual history with Pixie. It made me fume just thinking about the two of them in that way.

The Joker grunted and shifted uneasily under the covers, throwing some of them from his bare body, revealing his upper torso.

"That's the point, isn't it, Giada? Now you…assume…Braidon's mine because I fucked Pixie," the Joker responded with a sharp tone. He raised his eyebrows and ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Well yeah—because typically in the scheme of life, that is how life is made," I sarcastically retorted.

"Giada. Please don't get cutesy with me—you don't know…" he didn't finish his sentence. It looked as if he was caught in thought, or that he couldn't finish his sentence—like he didn't know _how_ to finish his sentence. I thought it would be a good time for me to probe further. Stupid me.

"I don't know what?" I asked, trying not to sound too caring, and more like the therapist I used to be to him when he was back in Arkham. His eyes quickly darted up and glared into mine like fire. I immediately regretted asking him. He almost looked like he was in pain, mixed with anger.

"I'm sorry—never mind," I quickly rambled, hoping to get on his good side for the moment.

"No. Never be sorry," he snapped back, trying to regain some control within him, "There's no use being sorry in life, Giada. Not when you're with your other half," his voice grew softer as he spoke the latter part. His eyes brows raised suggestively.

"Look, I know none of this can be easy for you, Joker—or, not easy, really, but…not something you'd have predicted or wanted for yourself—I know I'm certainly not helping by making assumptions. Maybe Braidon isn't yours. Even if he is, there are things you can do—maybe have a talk with Pixie and put him up for adoption; that way he can have a better life with a family who loves him and wants him," I explained. My hand generously reached out and touched his arm.

"It's not that—it's none of that. You…you don't know what I…feel. I don't know what I feel. I didn't think I could feel anymore—now all of a sudden, I get these…bursts," he gestured widely with his hands, "I get theses bursts of feelings in between all of the numbness and pain I've felt for so long. Sometimes these feelings…hurt, but not like how I usually am. Sometimes these feelings make me—dizzy. Other feelings, like when I had to…cut you…are _indescribable_. I just don't remember a way to explain it, or if it was something I ever felt before in my life," he explained.

I reached down and took hold of his hand in mine. It was always a soothing sensation to feel his ungloved hand, "Don't worry about it. You don't hurt me. _I_ hurt me. Don't worry about the feelings you can't explain or describe. They're probably nothing important,"

"Giada don't belittle yourself. As for Braidon, well, who knows," the Joker stated, almost in wonderment. I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness for Braidon—an innocent child who had no requests on coming into this life to such terrible parents.

"Braidon is an innocent life—whether you want him or not is something you need to consider," I explained, firmly.

"He should be yours, Giada," the Joker responded, licking his lips. I was immediately taken back by his response. There was no way I could care for a little baby. I knew the brief overview of taking care of babies, but I knew I couldn't care for one long term as its parent.

"Excuse me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, hoping he was kidding.

"Braidon…should…be…yours," the Joker restated slowly, as though I didn't hear him the first time.

I shook my head, "No, I heard you the first time. I am just in shock at what you said. Joker, I can't care for your son—especially since he is half Pixie,"

"He can't stay with Pixie,"

"Then he can stay with you," I replied. The Joker shook his head.

"He's _your_ son!" I exclaimed, "If he doesn't stay with Pixie, then he has to stay with you!"

"I…I…can't. There's just no way," the Joker retorted, seemingly fully terrified for the first time I in the time I had known him.

"You had the unprotected sex. Now you must reap the consequences," I responded, lifting myself from the bed and finally leaving the bedroom. He was making me enraged and I knew if I remained with him any longer end up saying something I'd regret later.

I walked into the living room and sat beneath one of the beautiful chandeliers. The city lights illuminated the sky from beyond the window. It was all so tranquil outside the room, but inside the room, I felt I could cut the tension with a chain saw. I slowly stood to my feet and walked over to a door which led to a balcony. I slowly opened the door and emerged onto the balcony. The door closed behind me and I rested my elbows down onto the balcony edge as I gazed out at my city. The sun had long set over the horizon and all was turning black. The Prudential Building was brightly lit beside the John Hancock Tower. I had always loved the Boston skyline.

"I knew you…enjoyed…this view," the Joker spoke finally from behind me in a low voice. The sound of his voice immediately soothed me as my gazed out at the lights illuminating from the buildings.

"It's my home—I'll always love it more than anything. It's what I know best," I responded, still gazing out at the city. .

The Boston Garden was lit up far below, reflecting light against the still waters of the pond. I always loved the bridge that crossed over the pond, with all the willow trees that bent over the pond in attempt at viewing their reflections in the water.

I felt the Joker's arm slip about my waist suddenly. I struggled to keep my head from turning towards him as he planted his face beside mine. I could feel his cheek brush against mine as he too, observed the city. He let out a soft sigh as the gaze caught him by surprise.

"I…enjoy…it too," he said finally, turning his face into mine slightly. A small smile crossed my lips.

"I'm glad," I responded, still hopelessly gazing at my city. I breathed in a deep breath and released a comforting sigh.

"I…I didn't mean to…upset you. I just…I…think you would…be…a mother Braidon would…enjoy," the Joker stated finally. He really didn't know how to explain his thoughts if they weren't related to destruction.

"Well thank you, I'm flattered really—but I don't know that I can be a mother to a child who is half you and half Pixie," I retorted sullenly.

"I can see that—but…think of it another way," he explained, "What if," he paused, biting his lower lip, and tonguing his inner cheek.

"What if what?" I asked, anxiously, turning my head slightly.

"What if you were the mother…and I was…the father?" he asked slowly, narrowing his eyebrows and licking his lower lip. He looked unsure of his statement, but I couldn't help but contain the smile that escaped onto my lips.

"You want to raise Braidon with me as his mom?" I asked, unable to hide my smile.

"If…things…came to that—then I think you would be the better choice," the Joker responded, incapable of admitting something emotional like this to himself. He knew Pixie would suck as a mother. He also knew that I meant something important to him, but he was unable to admit this aloud. I thought, maybe in this moment, I could help him along.

"Why is that? I mean, of course I could love Braidon—there's no question in that. But why would _you_ want me to be his mom…and _you_ his father?" I asked, trying my best to hide my grin.

"I think the answer is obvious to you, sweet cheeks," he retorted, grinning slightly.

"Oh is it now?" I asked, smirking, and turning toward him fully.

"Well, I know you know me like I know you—and if that's really the case, then you can…assume…what you will," the Joker explained, appearing a bit nervous. I nodded my head and turned my back to him so that I could face the city once more.

"I see," I responded, casting a heavy gaze out upon Boston.

"Giada…I…cant' live without you," he said finally. My heart immediately started racing at his words. He couldn't live without me—that had to mean he loved me. If only he would tell me now that he loved me, all would be perfect—except for him having a baby with Pixie!

"That's nice to know," I replied softly, but not so I seemed desperate to have him tell me something else more important—something like…maybe he loved me??!

His lips met my neck and chills ran down my spine. I couldn't help but turn away from Boston and collide my lips to his. His grasp about my waist tightened as I raised my arms about his neck.

Before I knew what was going on, he and I had moved indoors and had made our way into the bedroom. He was eagerly removing my clothes as I continued kissing his lips, face and neck. I had never been so impatient as to get him into bed with me. Once we were both finally naked, he pulled me onto the bed and inserted himself into me. As we made love, the room seemed to spin about me as though I were in some kind of dream. Nothing felt real—it was all too enchanted. The pleasure he felt from me radiated across his face as he pulled me closer to him. We changed positions a couple of times until I was on my back and he was hovering above me, his hair hanging down over my face. I was just about to reach my climax.

"I…I love you," I stuttered in a sigh as I reached the elevated point of our sex. It appeared on his face and in the tension of his body, he too reached his climax.

As he set forth his release and took in my words simultaneously, he responded in a heartfelt sigh, "I love you too,"


	72. Give in to Me

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72. Give in to Me

~*~*~

_Disclaimer: I am so sorry I have updated in the longest time! I was taking classes this summer so that I can apply to nursing school this fall/winter—so I apologize!! I hope you all forgive me!!! The title of this chapter is named for an MJ song—very good—take a listen…from his Dangerous album! The lyrics are kind of a back and forth demonstration of the Joker's feelings towards Giada and her feelings towards him. The italicized/bold lyrics are the Joker and the regular are Giada. You will see these lyrics appear later on in this chapter to some extent. I do not own them! They belong to the late Michael Jackson! _

She always takes it with a heart of stone  
'Cause all she does is throws it back to me  
I've spent a lifetime looking for someone  
_**Don't try to understand me  
Just simply do the things I say**_

Love is a feeling  
_**Give it when I want it  
'Cause I'm on fire**_**  
**Quench my desire  
_**Give it when I want it  
Talk to me, woman**_  
_**Give in to me  
Give in to me**_

You always knew just how to make me cry  
And never did I ask you questions why  
It seems you get your kicks from hurting me  
_**Don't try to understand me  
Because your words just aren't enough**_

Don't try to tell me  
Because your words just aren't enough  
Love is a feeling  
Quench my desire  
_**Give it when I want it  
Takin' me higher  
Talk to me, woman**_  
Love is a feeling  
Give in to me  
Give in to me  
Give in to me

Love is a Feeling  
_**I don't wanna hear it**_  
_**Quench my desire  
Takin' me higher  
Tell it to the preacher  
Satisfy the feeling**_  
_**Give in to me  
Give in to me**_

I don't wanna  
I don't wanna  
I don't wanna hear  
_**Give in to the fire  
Talk to me, woman  
Quench my desire  
Not like a lady  
**_Talk to me, Baby  
Give in to me

A part of me didn't even hear those three words I had so longed to hear for nearly three years; and they almost flew by me as quickly as they had been uttered. But, to the Joker's dismay, my willful ears picked up every millisecond it took his lips and voice to say those words. My face was already warm, and my already accelerated heart only beat faster. As he rolled off of me in his dramatic finish, he let loose the butterflies that had been swirling inside my stomach.

"You what?!" I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. He had already closed his eyes, ready to drift off into a deep slumber. He cracked one eyelid open and glanced at me from his peripheral.

"Hm?" he grumbled, completely unaware of what he had just said to me.

"You love me. You just said it," I stated, matter-of-factly.

"No—no I didn't," he retorted groggily.

"Yes. Yes you did—don't take this way from me! I've waited nearly three years to hear you tell me you love me back and you finally did—don't deny it! You sort of 'sighed' it…when you came. It was like, 'Ahhhhiiiiiii lohhhve hyooouu too'" I demonstrated.

He was silent for a moment, probably thinking about how he was going to get himself out of this. He clearly wasn't ready to tell me—or maybe he figured he could tell me and I would not hear him. A rather unlikely story! I remained by his side, letting him lose himself in thoughts, until I finally glanced over at him and saw his chest rising and falling rhythmically. That bitch fell asleep!

"Wake up!" I shrieked into his ear as I shook him harshly.

"Sons of bitches!" he growled as he jolted awake. He turned his head toward me and glared at me through narrow eyes.

"Admit you said it," I spoke softly, not wanting to anger him. He had already cut my face once in a jealous rage—I wasn't about to let him cut the rest of my body into little pieces because I woke him from sleeping. He groaned and then turned over on his side, away from me.

Feeling my heart sink into my stomach, crushing the butterflies, I followed his lead and turned over onto my side, turning out the light while I nestled into the bed. Maybe I could press the matter further in the morning when he was rested and in a better state of mind. Or maybe he would bring it up in the morning when he's not so tired. But when is the Joker in a state of mind that is predictable? I had just experienced a complete 180—he told me he loved me and then five seconds later, denied saying anything at all. He either honestly didn't remember, he doesn't want to remember, is wishing he didn't say anything at all, or doesn't know how to confront his real feelings on the matter, good or bad. Somehow, I needed to turn off my brain for the evening—I needed sleep too. I had also needed time away from the Joker, and I certainly didn't get that! Knowing my luck, I would toss the night away in a restless sleep, contemplating all meanings of the phrase "I love you…I never said that". Go figure. Leave it to the psych nurse with her master's in cognitive psych to have that said to her. It was like some kind of cruel joke. I suppose, being with the Joker and having it said to me by the Joker is quite fitting. He _is_ a man of Jokes…hence being the Joker.

_Ahh! My thoughts are rambling!_ I really had to turn off my thoughts. I wished there was some kind of medication I could take that would just knock me out. _Heh—oxycodone would do the trick_. _Damn it! Brain—just shut the fuck up!_

I remained in bed only a couple of more moments before I finally uncovered myself and stood to my feet. The Joker was out like a light, curled up on the other side of the bed. I quietly and swiftly moved through the city-lit room, searching for my clothes. In a couple of fast, smooth motions, I dressed myself, grabbed my room key, and headed out the door. It wasn't too late—only around 11:45. There were definitely some good things going on in town with which I could occupy my busy mind.

The Boston night air was crisp, but not too cool. The breeze sent a chill up and down my spine as I stepped onto the street, but the moistness from the ocean quickly warmed me as I walked towards the North End. I made my way past Government Center and Haymarket and finally crossed over 93 to Hanover Street—the main drag of Boston's North End. Immediately, the smell of garlic, basil, fresh bread and pasta, and the sound of old Italian men speaking Italian permeated my senses. It was good to be home. The street was packed with locals and tourists, all enjoying the nice evening. I glanced through the windows of the Italian restaurants as I passed by them, seeing the couples eating homemade meals in the dim light. I always found the North End restaurants to be both fun and romantic. You were pretty much always guaranteed a good meal wherever you decided to eat.

I finally made it to my favorite café—Café Vittoria. They served the _best_ tiramisu in town! Or in my opinion, the world. I made my way to the back of the café and sat down in my favorite seal by the stairs. There was a cigar room below the café where people could go and roll their own cigars and drink espresso.

"What'll you have?" the waitress asked as she took out a piece of paper.

"A piece of tiramisu and a shot of limoncello," I stated, handing her my ID. She nodded once, handed me my ID and left. I leaned back in my chair and took in the atmosphere. It had been so long since I had last been in this place—it almost felt foreign. To think I had gone there so often when I was back in college almost seemed like a lifetime ago. I couldn't believe how much I had learned, experienced, dealt with, in just a matter of six to seven years.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, and with it, all the delicious scents of the café cappuccinos, espressos, desserts and cigars from the stairs leading to the basement.

"Here's your tiramisu and your limoncello," the waitress said as she placed the drink and plate down onto the small round table. I opened my eyes and smiled up at her.

"Thank you very much,"

She smiled back and placed the check down on the table between the menu and the napkin holder, "Whenever you are ready,"

I nodded my head and she left once more. I took the little glass of limoncello and did a silent toast to myself, _to being a stronger person_ I thought, and then took a sip from the glass. The sharp taste of lemons and the heat of the alcohol slid down my throat. It had been eons since my last glass of limoncello! I was distraught at my near-intolerance for it!

Grabbing the spoon, I dug into my tiramisu and let the light, creamy dessert melt in my mouth. I was just about to be overwhelmed by the incredible flavor of the cream and the kahlua, when I was suddenly interrupted by a man.

"Care to join me for a…cigar?" I turned my head towards the inquiry and nearly spit out my tiramisu all over the table.

"What are you doing here?!" I exclaimed, then forced my voice into a more hushed exclamation, "How did you know I'd be here?!" I was completely astonished that I could barely breathe.

The Joker made his way all the way up the stairs and stood beside my table, "I know you better than you give me credit for, Miss DiMarco," he remarked with a cunning grin.

"But…I left you sleeping,"

"You thought I was sleeping? Giada—you know me better than that!" he retorted, almost seeming disappointed in me. I frowned and then took another sip of my limoncello.

"You look good," I said finally, setting my glass down and looking at him up and down. He had opted out of wearing his Joker clothes and makeup—probably since he was on Boston's Most Wanted List after the last time he was in the city. We had killed that cop…

"Not what I would chose for myself, but if I'm going to…enjoy…myself with you this evening…in public, I might as well…do…something about that," he responded, raising his eye brows as his tongue swept across his lower lip.

"Well, I've never been a huge fan of cigars, but I suppose there's no harm in trying one," I replied, taking my plate and glass of tiramisu into my hands.

"Of course," the Joker smirked and led the way down the stairs. I took the limoncello and tiramisu with me as I followed behind the Joker, to the cigar room.

A cloud of tobacco circled and consumed me as I trailed behind the Joker, all the way to a secluded table in the corner of the dimly lit room. The room itself always had an Italian mafia feel to it, but the Joker added a macabre even without his face paint, that only I could appreciate.

I took a seat across from the harlequin of hate and flashed him a subtle grin, to which he responded with a quick flash of his teeth and then averted his eyes across the room. When he saw that no one else in the room felt the need to watch the two of us, he focused his attention on me as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned in close to me. Flicking the scars inside his mouth with the tip of his tongue, his dark eyes stared hard at me from under his brows. I gulped nervously and sat back in my chair, crossing my legs.

"So—no face pain tonight huh," I stuttered anxiously, darting my eyes about the room, avoiding his at all costs.

"Giada, look at me," he demanded, his voice low and hushed. Startled by the tone and urgency in his voice, I swung my eyes into position and locked with his.

He glanced to his peripheral for a quick moment and then ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "Giadaaaa," he sighed, and looked down at the table. He lifted his right hand, raised his eyes again to meet mine, and touched the corner of my mouth where he had cut me.

"What? Is it bad?" I asked, touching the other side of my face where the other scar mirrored the one he touched.

"No—now you are like _me_," he grinned a sardonic grin.

"I suppose you could say I'm like you in that I now have scars that extend from my mouth, but that is the extent to which I am like you," I retorted curtly, still angry with him for what he had done earlier.

"Now Giada, sweeeethear_t_, you don't mean that," he crooned, trying to suck me into his world of crazy mind games—trying make me believe he actually loved me.

"I'm through beating around the bush with you, Joker. You said you loved me tonight and then you denied it," I snapped back at him, not once breaking our eye contact.

He shifted uneasily in his chair. He knew I would bring this up, but perhaps he figured I would have let it go.

"Love is a woman," he replied finally, unsure of how I would respond.

"Love is a _feeling_," I corrected him, knowing full well that he claimed to be incapable of feeling emotions.

"You always knew just how to make me cry and I never did ask you questions why," I stated, hoping deeply he would take back all he said.

"Don't try to understand me, just do the things I say," the Joker replied, seeming to get a bit riled up at where this conversation was headed. His dark eyes had fire in them, but I couldn't tear mine from his. His hair was messily pulled behind his head in a hair tie. His torso was adorned with a button down shirt and a pair of fitted, dark blue jeans, ripped at the left knee, covered him from the waist down. I couldn't back down. I wanted him to be mine and I wasn't going to stop until he admitted to me he loved me—that he was capable of feeling emotion.

"Love is a feeling," I repeated myself, ready to go on with the rest of my speech on how I knew he could feel emotion.

"Then give it when I want it," he demanded, not nearly as harshly as I would have anticipated. I tilted my head, unsure of what exactly he meant by that. Did he confirm his feelings? Did he just demand my love for him when he wanted it?

"The way I see it," he continued, "love is a woman, so you need to …quench my…_desire_," the Joker licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. I knew he was hiding behind this 'love is a woman' bullshit. He knew very well what love was and what it meant to love someone. He was engaged to Pixie Dust, for Christ's sake!

"Don't try to tell me. I don't wanna hear it," I flared back at him, anger rising in my eyes. "If your desire is merely lust, then I don't want any part in that,"

"Giada, when I'm with you, I'm on fire—you _have_ to quench my desire. You need to give in to me," the Joker responded, almost desperately. My heart nearly stopped. I never would have anticipated the Joker seeming desperate about anything. I averted my eyes away from his for a moment to regain control of myself before speaking.

"Don't try to tell me, because your words are just not enough," I responded calmly.

"Then what do you want from me?" he asked finally, his eyes burning, not in anger at me, but burning for me. I was always able to tell when someone looked upon me with a burning desire. There was no way he didn't love me.

"I want _you_ to give in to _me_," I retorted, my eyes burning with the fire I'd felt for him since the day we met.


	73. Whadaya Want From Me

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73. Whadaya Want From Me

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_Disclaimer: Hello all!!!!!!! My most sincere apologies for not having updated in what may have been close to a year (maybe less, but it was still forever!!!) I got into nursing school at Umass Boston, which is awesome, and the other good news is that I won't be taking crazy summer classes which means…UPDATES!!!!! YAY! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've been seriously bitten by writer's block, but I feel I may have overcome it. I also want to point out that Adam Lambert was my inspiration for this next chapter(you need to hear this whole album-it's awesome!); his song "Whadaya Want From Me" is awesome, and the title of this chapter…and I do not own it _

I had never before this moment, seen the Joker's eyes so intently focused on mine. I was pretty sure he had no idea how to respond to me, but then again, he probably knew _exactly _what to say. He somehow had this way of permeating my brain, knowing what I was going to say before saying it. I really hated that about him, and yet, loved it irrevocably. It made me feel like we were connected on more than just a cognitive level—that maybe, just _maybe_, our souls were entwined and destined to do this for eternity. _Fuck, if I'm supposed to do this with him for eternity, it's no wonder we've been reincarnated into this situation. Fail!_

I forced my thoughts out of my head as I stared intently into his dark chestnut brown eyes. In the dim lighting, against his strikingly light hair, they appeared almost black, completely void of all color; certainly fitting for his black, void of color soul, to which I decided I had been ethereally bound.

Finally, his tongue swept habitually across his full lower lip as he prepared to speak, "And…what if I don't—_give in to you_, as it were," he suggested, mimicking the way I had just spoken to him. I blinked purposefully and took in a deep breath as I finally tore my eyes from his. I ran a hand through my hair, took another moment to breathe and then locked eyes with him.

"Then, I'm gone. I just don't know that I can do this anymore. It's out there—I'm in love with you—completely and totally," I let out a small laugh at the situation, "You asked me what I want from you—well you damn well know what I want from you. I think the question remains, what do _you_ want from _me_, because I've spent the better part of three years trying to figure that one out. From the moment you showed up in my apartment back in Gotham, I've been trying to figure out what the hell it is you want from me. If you don't love me, if you don't give a rat's ass about me, then why the hell are you still with me? What the fuck do you want from me, _Jack Napier_?" I demanded, deliberately using his birth-given name. I hoped to his a heartstring, one that maybe would allow him to remember what it meant for him to be Jack Napier and in love—what it meant to be in love and how it felt to love and be loved in return. Man, my thoughts were beginning to sound like "Moulin Rouge". _Great movie! No! Focus, Giada!_

The Joker's eyes flared up wildly at the instant I had spoken his actual name. My plan backfired. His lips pursed together tightly as though he were trying to control some kind of inner rage that had broken free from within. I should have known better than to assume I could predict the Joker's reaction to something. I knew better than that! Hell, I had known him for three years—I could predict that he was unpredictable! I should have predicted that my anticipated, or hopeful, reaction would have turned into this. He appeared fuming. I felt my heartbeat quicken at his hateful glare, but I knew I had to stand my ground. I knew what I was doing and I knew I had to do this. I was strong. I knew I was a strong woman. I had been through too much shit in my life to not be strong enough to stand up to the Joker; to stand up to the man I claimed to love.

"What do I want from you?" The Joker finally spat back at me, angrily, "do not _ever_ use that name…not in public, not _anywhere_," his eyes were black now and full of hate. I had seen those eyes look upon me with desire, with lust, with evil plotting and to me, with love—but never the hate and angst they now bore. Of course I had seen his hateful eyes glare boldly at several people throughout our time together, and it had always pleased me when those eyes of complete and utter abhorrence gazed so profusely at Pixie. But now, in this moment, they glared complete and utter repugnance at me.

I bit my lower lip as I suppressed the sinking of my heart into my stomach. _Give me strength. I know it's there_. I took in another deep breath and made my eyes focus on his. I took in the negative and hateful energy from his glare and used it as my own strength. I felt my inner rage turn into power as my eyes cast forth a fire that I had not released in some time.

"I'll speak your name whenever and wherever I want, because that is your name and that is _who you are_," I replied curtly and hoping the end would send a horrible sting.

"I am _not_…him," he responded angrily, unable of speaking his own name. His eyes darted about the cigar lounge and then stopped as he intensely focused back on me.

"You are right—as of currently, you are not him. But you were him. And you can be him again if you really wanted to," I replied, pausing before I continued, "It must be so lonely not being able to let yourself love someone—to not be able to let yourself feel anything. You're so numb to everything in your life that you can just kill and laugh at it. I get it. But now I'm here and I've been putting myself out there for three years. For some reason, I've fallen in love with you and all I've ever wanted was for you to somehow find it within yourself to love me back. It kills me—it absolutely devastates me that you allowed yourself to love Pixie—you loved her enough to ask her to marry you. I'm almost 30 years old, Joker! I'd like to get married someday, too! And on top of it all, you have a child with her. She is the most _incapable_ mother I've ever seen and yet somehow she was able to get you to love her and to ask her to marry you. Fuck that, Joker. Seriously, I'm done. I can't do this game with you anymore. I was sane at one point, and you've proven your point—anyone can go insane from just a bad experience. Well how about this, my horrible experience has been with you and it has lasted three fucking years. I don't expect I'll ever fall out of love with you, but I really can't allow myself to be around you anymore. You've all but physically killed me—I don't know that I even have a soul left," I stood to my feet, barely able to stop myself from shaking. I couldn't believe what had just come from my mouth. Was I really going to keep myself away from him? I had to hope I could.

"And when I get back to Gotham, Pixie _will_ die," I finished finally as I turned and left him at the table. I never got a good look at the expression on his unpainted face, but I could only imagine that it was still full of hate. He was, after all, the harlequin of hate. I never should have tried getting him to tell me he loved me. I knew somewhere inside of him, he did love me. He had admitted it to me that very night, for Chrissake! He was either being incredibly stubborn, or he truly did feel nothing for anyone or anything. I hoped it wasn't the latter.

I hastily made my way up the stairs, through the café and out onto Hanover Street. I had felt his eyes on me as I made my way up the stairs, but I knew he felt nothing but the blackness that had evaded his soul. Hell, I was mad enough to kill people. It was no wonder he turned out that way! It's a difficult job containing anger and hate. Worst of all, I hated that I had hate within me. I needed Bruce. I needed him to fly me back to Gotham so that I could be with him. Bruce made everything better. I couldn't even enjoy my vacation from the Joker in my hometown, which made me just sad inside. I loved Boston more than any other place I'd ever known, and he had ruined it all in an instant. But I knew I couldn't let him win. I couldn't let him have that kind of power over me anymore. I knew I was now bat-shit crazy for sure, but I also knew I couldn't let him have that kind of satisfaction. I had to let him think I was still sane as ever. And part of me was—the part of me that knew Bruce would be a much more suitable partner for me—better to love and be loved by, but I knew my heart just wouldn't have it.

As much as I wanted to go on a hate-filled, the Joker-broke-my-heart-again jihad, I knew I had to do the one thing my brain was screaming at me to do—and that was to call Bruce. I immediately whipped out my phone, disregarding the time, which was almost 1 AM, which meant it was near 2 AM in Gotham, and dialed Bruce.

Bruce's groggy voice broke the ringing in my ear, "Hello?" his voice cracked slightly.

"Bruce, it's Giada," I answered him, trying to steady my voice from shaking the way my legs were barely able to uphold my slight frame. Bruce's voice instantly became alert.

"Giada, what's going on? Are you okay?" he asked, as concerned as ever for me. I had to admit, a huge part of me loved Bruce, and I knew I could be completely happy with him, but I also knew I loved him as a dear friend.

"You'll never believe this—or maybe you will…the Joker followed me here. I just can't get away from him anywhere I go, no matter what I do! I'm like a fucking magnet for him!" I exclaimed, as I discovered that I was practically in tears. It seemed everything I had finally caught up with me.

"Christ," Bruce's voice was hard but flat sounding, "I'll be there in no time at all, Giada. I'm getting you out of there and you and I are going somewhere he won't find you," Bruce explained. I had been all for getting my vacation from the Joker, but the thought of leaving with Bruce and going someplace he would never find me made my heart yearn for the man I had so recently told to keep away from me. I was absolutely fucking nuts! I had to do it. I already had Bruce on the phone—there was no going back now. I was at the edge of the cliff and jumped off.

"Okay. Where should I meet you?" I asked, forcing myself to speak.

"I'll be at Fenway Park in an hour and a half. Until then, go to your favorite club or bar where it's crowded and he can't find you," Bruce instructed me.

"You're gonna land your plane in Fenway?!" I retorted with an exclamation. Fenway Park is where the Red Sox play ball during MLB season. I had spent countless years going to Sox games throughout my lifetime. The thought of Bruce's plan using it as a landing strip made me giggle inside, seeing as I had never had the opportunity to even step foot on the field.

"Giada, focus. Yes, I'm landing inside Fenway Park. I will meet you outside the park on Lansdowne Street. I'm not taking the private jet. I'm taking the helicopter,"

"You're flying from Gotham to Boston in a fucking helicopter?! I exclaimed, forcing myself to walk away from the North End and into the financial district that housed my favorite clubs and bars.

"Giada, it's me we're talking about. It's no ordinary helicopter," Bruce chuckled finally. I smiled, glad to have lightened the mood between us.

"Okay. I'll be there. And Bruce, thank you,"

I felt like I could sense him smile through the cell phone, "Anything for you, Giada. Now go have a drink and maybe dance a bit until I get there," Bruce responded.

"Okay, but just an FYI, last call is 2 AM here, and it's almost 1. It gives me a good hour at the bar and then another 30 minutes on the street. Though, I'm sure it will take me 30 minutes to walk from Hurricane's to Fenway," I explained.

"Why don't you take the train? You shouldn't walk alone at night, Giada," Bruce lectured.

"First of all, the trains shut down a half hour ago. Second, I'm one of Gotham's most wanted criminals. I think I can manage hiding myself in the night as I make my way to Fenway. Trust me, no one is gonna fuck with me, and if they do, I'll fuck them up," I responded. I surprised myself by how tough I sounded. Then again, I had been a drug addict and basically fending for myself against scumbags since high school. I could certainly handle a little walk down to Fenway.

"I'm going to pretend you won't kill anyone," Bruce responded flatly, "but in any case, yeah, I expect you can defend yourself. See you soon, and take care of yourself," Bruce hung up the phone before I could say anything further, such as 'fly safely!' or 'you too!'. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and continued on my way to Hurricane O'Reilly's, which was not too far from where I was.

Making my way down Canal Street was like walking back in time…when I was in college with friends, drunk and stumbling our way to a taxi to bring us back to the dorm. _Oh, the good ole days when life was less complicated—before I was a criminal mastermind_. The thought of being a criminal mastermind was both thrilling and terrifying—I was almost terrified of myself and what I was capable of doing. Part of me didn't want to leave the Joker. Part of me wanted to leave and go far away with Bruce. I had to leave with Bruce. I already executed that plan. I couldn't tell him to forget it now. I committed to a plan and I had to execute said plan. Although, the Joker would probably assume I was leaving Boston—he probably had it all figured out that Bruce was on his way to get me and sweep me away to some far off land. Maybe I should stay and blow his mind. Maybe he would figure I would go with Bruce and then figure he knew I would go and stay instead. My mind was running in circles. There was just no way I could do the unexpected here. The Joker probably had every situation anticipated. I was stuck. I had to go with Bruce. And yet, something made me stop walking to Hurricane's. Something made me turn and head towards the last place on Earth I ever thought I'd go. It was as if something ethereal had possessed my body—I had no control over myself as I strut myself away from Hurricane's. I didn't know where my body was taking me, so I gave in. Why fight the unknown?

I didn't regret this decision until I finally arrived at the place of my destination. My heart skipped an anxious beat as the familiar entry-way presented itself to me. There was a long line out the door—men and women all waiting to gain entry into the club: The Jokers Wild.

"What do you want from me?!" I angrily whispered under my breath to no one in particular as my eyes gazed upon my former place of employment. "How is it I always end up here?"

I took in a deep breath and let loose an unwilling sigh. Something made me come here tonight. I might as well go on inside, "Fuck it," I said aloud, as I walked up to the bouncer, who knew me quite well.


End file.
